The Scottish Connection
by Itsme66
Summary: Harry may not have been as isolated as the Order thought, in the summer after 4th year. Rated for alcohol abuse, swearing, innuendo, and maybe a naughty scene or two later on. Unbeta'd
1. Headquarters

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his whole universe belongs to J. K. Rowling and her assorted associates. I'm just having a good time playing with it all, and I, unlike the owner, don't make a penny from it.

A/N: This writing excercise follows canon until Order of the Phoenix page 60. Well, I've stuck in a few bits and pieces that JKR obviously overlooked, but what happened in canon before that point, happened before this story as well.  
This chapter is inspired by Corwalch's 'How It Might Have Gone', only Harry has already made his choice when he arrives at Grimmauld Place, and the story will eventually go on from there.

**The Scottish Connection**

**Ch. 1**

**Headquarters**

"_Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I've really got to dash," Mrs Weasley whispered distractedly. "There -" they had reached the second landing, "- you're the door on the right, I'll call you when it's over."_

_And she hurried off downstairs again._

_(Quoted from 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix', British hardback issue, page 60.)_

Harry watched her scurrying downstairs, absolutely speechless. 'Bitch!' he thought. 'Let's just imprison poor, dumb Harry and keep him from knowing anything, and then later we'll do something incredibly convoluted, illogical and stupid to take him somewhere else, where we'll continue keeping him out of the loop, shall we?' he seethed. 'After all, he's just the one Voldemort wants dead more than anyone, so why tell him anything, right?'. He smirked.. 'Well, up yours!'

With that last, satisfying thought, Harry decided to pay some attention to his surroundings. From his vantage point, the whole house seemed rundown, dank and dreary.. Much like he'd imagined the home of a dark wizard, or maybe some kind of unsavoury coven, dedicated to unspeakable acts of perversion. He definitely hadn't imagined the fabled Order of the Phoenix in this kind of environment.

Moving closer to the door, Mrs. Weasley had indicated, he heard voices coming from the room behind it:

"Isn't Harry supposed to come here tonight? Damn, he's going to be bloody furious!"

"Language, Ron! I keep telling you to mind how you're talking.  
But yeah, he should be here any minute now."

"I'm so not looking forward to him yelling at us, you know..."

"You know perfectly well, Professor Dumbledore didn't want us telling him anything."

"I know, I know, and that's okay with me, but Hedwig's all but bitten my finger to the bone, and Harry's going to blow a gasket when he sees us. I'm just not looking forward to that..."

"Yeah, I'm not either, but it'll pass and he'll come around eventually. It's what he always does after all..."

Yep, unmistakably Ron and Hermione, and certainly a conversation that told him a lot about loyalties and attitude, and confirmed that his plans were both justified and needed.

Then it dawned on him, that he was apparently supposed to share the room with Ron, since he was already in it. 'No bloody way I'm sleeping in the same room as the Chainsaw Massacre for the next week!' he thought. 'I won't get a decent night's sleep, and he'll rat me out to Dumbles the first time he catches me with the phone or Dobby. I've got to find another room. Besides, it'll be a lot more convincing if I'm off sulking on my own.'

With that thought firmly in mind, Harry set out down the corridor, knocking at every door he came across. There were no answers, but all rooms looked occupied when he peered in, until he came to the last door, which opened into a diminutive, dingy room with a small single bed in it, much like 'his' room at Privet Drive, except this bed looked slightly better.

Not knowing what could be lurking in the shadows in there, he quietly called for Dobby, who popped in almost immediately.

"The great and noble Master Harry Potter sir is being calling for Dobby! What can Dobby be doing for Master Harry Potter sir?" the excitable little Elf squealed.

"Hush, Dobby. We don't want anyone to know you're here," Harry chastised him. "Can you fix up this room quickly? Just enough to make sure I'm not attacked in my sleep by whatever lurks in there."

Dobby's ears drooped. "Dobby is being sorry, Master Harry Potter sir. Dobby will be being very quiet, and Dobby will be having room ready in five minutes."

With that, something akin to a miniature tornado tore through the room, leaving nothing even remotely suspect in its wake.

Four minutes and fifty-two seconds later, the room was still dark and dreary, but now it was a spotless dark.

"Thank you, Dobby. Great work as always," Harry praised the beaming little fellow. "Now remember, you are not to come to me unless I call for you! It's vitally important that Dumbledore doesn't know you're helping us out. I'll call you once or twice a day, so you can see I'm alright, and deliver if you've got something for me from my friends, OK?"

"Dobby will be remembering," Dobby said solemnly. "Dobby will be visiting Mr. Iain sir and Master Harry Potter sir's Young Miss every day, and only be coming to Master Harry Potter sir when Master Harry Potter sir is being calling for Dobby."

"That's great, Dobby, you're definitely earning your pay," Harry smiled. "The first time you see them, could you tell them that I'm forced to keep my phone turned off, so they can't call me?" And after a quick think added: "And could you tell Mr. Perks as well?"

"Dobby will be doing."

"Oh, one last thing... Could you go to the Leaky Cauldron and get me four bottles of Firewhiskey, a turkey sandwich, and a couple of Butterbeers?"

"Dobby can be making Master Harry Potter sir's food!" Dobby exclaimed, rather emphatically.

"I know, Dobby, but where would you make it? And from what? I don't have a house yet – at least not officially – and even if I did, there wouldn't be anything there to make a sandwich out of," Harry pointed out reasonably. "Don't worry though. I'll have a place soon enough, and then you can cook for me to your heart's content, but until I'm out of here, we'll have to do it this way, my friend."

Somewhat mollified, Dobby popped away, and while he was gone, Harry got out of his whale-sized clothes, and put on a ratty, equally over-large t-shirt to sleep in, and then flopped down onto his bed with a 4th year Arithmancy textbook, waiting for the explosion that was certain to happen, once Molly Weasley found out that he was not with her precious son.

------

In the kitchen, the meeting was drawing to a close. Order members were starting to get up and leave, Mrs. Weasley was bustling around, getting dinner ready, and Sirius was gearing up for the inevitable fight against the overbearing woman, about what he saw as Harry's obvious right to know what was going on.

Whether knowingly or not, Mrs. Weasley deftly dodged Sirius' first attempt by heading up to fetch the youngsters for dinner, thinking they'd had enough time to get their hellos in by now, and greatly heartened that she hadn't heard the expected eruptions of an angry Harry. Perhaps he really was starting to grow up, and acknowledge that Dumbledore knew what was best for everyone.

Arriving at the second floor landing, the first thing she heard from Ron's and Harry's shared room was Ron yelling 'OW! GET OFF ME!'. Barging in, she saw her youngest son suffering under repeated strafing runs from an enraged snowy owl; a frozen Hermione staring wideeyed at the spectacular, although rather one-sided, battle; and worst of all - no Harry!

"What is happening in here?" she screeched. "Where's Harry?"

"Harry's bloody owl is trying to maim me, that's what's happening," Ron whined, "and what do you mean, 'where's Harry'? Wasn't he supposed to come here tonight?"

"Harry came an hour ago. I took him up here myself, and told him he was to stay in here."

"We haven't seen him, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said. "Nobody has been at the door either." Suddenly she paled... "Do you...Do you think he could be that furious with us?" she asked fearfully. "He couldn't be mad enough to just leave again, could he?"

"What do you mean, dear? Why would Harry be mad at you? You two are his best friends."

"You know Professor Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't tell him anything, and Harry hates being kept in the dark," Hermione sniffled. "He's been at that awful place for a month, and our letters have been useless. I thought he would just barge in and yell at us, but he's probably so furious, he doesn't even want to talk to us now."

"There now, dear. It can't be that bad. The Headmaster has had Order members watching him, and they haven't reported anything out of the ordinary going on."

"Fat lot of good that did, having that drunk guarding Harry," Ron scoffed. "He had to fight Dementors all by himself four days ago, and I guess whoever is watching him isn't inside the house, so how would they know how they treat Harry?"

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. "The Headmaster knows better than you, what's good for Harry. He's been with his family, that's what he needs."

"Didn't you listen to us when we broke him out after first year, Mum? We pulled bars off his window! Those people are horrible to him."

"The Headmaster knows best, Ronald. Now come on down to the kitchen, then we'll find Harry."

Bursting into the kitchen, slightly out of breath, Mrs. Weasley wasted no time asking if anybody had seen Harry.

That question prompted an immediate reaction from Sirius:

"What do you mean, 'has anybody seen Harry'? You took him to his room yourself, didn't you? Surely 'Sonorus One and Two' haven't been so preoccupied with shouting at each other as to miss him leaving again?" Sirius laced his last question with a healthy dose of sarcasm, as their constant, and excessively loud, arguing had been a nuisance for quite some time now, and everybody were rather fed up with it. Hermione and Ron both went scarlet at the accusation.

"I took him to the landing and told him where his room was. I was in a bit of a hurry to get back down here for the meeting, so don't you go and lay it on me, Sirius Black!"

"You didn't take him all the way? Great! Now we can search the whole house to find him," Sirius groaned.

"Why would I need to take him all the way into the room?" a red-faced Mrs. Weasley asked. "He's 15 years old. He should be able to step through a doorway on his own," she sniffed.

"Have you paid any attention to anything at all?" Sirius snapped, wanting nothing better than to curse the woman. They didn't get along at the best of times, and much less when times were not the best. Like now. "The whole point of the exercise was to get him in there, so he could vent right away. If he's the slightest bit like James, he'll be seething right now, what with Albus keeping him isolated with the scum of the Earth, and those two..." he shot Hermione and Ron a contemptuous look "...abandoning him completely. My guess is, he put two and two together, that he was supposed to share a room with someone who's been more or less ignoring him all summer, and most likely he didn't like that, so he found somewhere else to bunk."

"We haven't ignored him," Hermione started to protest. "The Headmaster said not to write anything important to him, because the owls could be tracked down, and we..."

"And you're supposed to be the brightest witch of your generation?" Sirius interrupted. "Then Merlin help us all when your generation takes over. Even I know about Muggle mail. You know, stuff a letter into an envelope, put a stamp on it, and drop it in a mailbox. There's one less than sixty yards from here, and I'm sure there's one in your neighbourhood too." Nobody had to ask about Sirius' mood right now.

Hermione went scarlet again, and while she opened and closed her mouth, nothing came out of it.

"I'm worried about him," Tonks suddenly said.

She ducked her head slightly, when everybody turned and looked at her.

"I didn't think about it when we picked him up, but he said very little, and his expression never changed," she elaborated.

"That's not good," Sirius said. "When James went cold, bad things tended to happen."

"He's not James, Sirius," Mrs. Weasley scolded.

"I know that better than anyone," Sirius snapped, "but he does have a lot of traits in common with him, and I knew James better than anybody.  
Did any of you others notice anything off about him?"

"Just what Tonks said," Hestia answered. "He seemed standoffish, but it's not like I know the lad, so I thought he was always like that."

"Bugger!"

"Language!"

"Stuff it, Molly! I'm old enough to say what I want to in my own house.  
Now, we've got a Harry to find. I suggest we look through the empty rooms on the third and fourth floor. Split up, people."

------

After a fruitless search, everybody met up outside Ron's room.

"OK, no Harry anywhere. That leaves only the guest servant's room down there," Sirius said. "From what I've heard about his usual accomodations, it might even make him feel at home."

They all turned and started towards the end of the corridor.

While all this happened, Harry had gleefully pondered Dobby's message from Iain, that magic couldn't be detected in a Fidelius-protected location; polished off his sandwich; poured a quarter bottle of Firewhiskey into an empty Butterbeer bottle, which he then hid in his trunk; put the opened bottle on the small table next to the bed; downed a potion from his trunk; and settled down with his textbook.

_Flashback, 3 days earlier:_

_Harry flipped his phone open. "Yes?"_

"_Harry, it's me!"_

"_Hi Sunshine! What's new?"_

"_I had a thought this morning..."_

"_Ooohh.. Be very careful with that. You could hurt yourself, you know."_

"_Git! I was wondering.. How much guilt do you want your minders and your excuses for friends to wallow in?"_

"_As much as possible, why?"_

"_Because I found a very interesting potion in one of Dad's naughty books yesterday."_

"_Potion? Naughty? Erm... Why don't I like the sound of that?"_

"_Probably because you equate 'potion' with 'Snape', and 'Snape' and 'naughty' really don't mix well.  
__...Eeww! Hold on while I go and scrub my brain. Blegh!  
__No, seriously.. It's called the 'Alco-away potion'. It's a potion to neutralize ingested alcohol. Imagine Molly Weasley and Dumbledore when they see you drinking Firewhiskey straight from the bottle, without even flinching. They'll think you've been drinking non-stop all the time you've been in that wretched place. Then tell them that thinking about Cedric was all you could do with your time, and that drinking enough whiskey allows you to actually sleep at night. And be sure to show no emotion at all about it."_

"_Hehe.. That's brilliant! But how am I going to get the recipe and the ingredients? I'm basically locked up here, and it's not like I can pop around Tesco to buy Eye of Newt or Salamander spleens."_

"_I'll brew them for you, Wise Guy. Then I'll give them to Dobby to pop over with, along with a fresh batch of nutrient potions."_

"_I knew I liked you for a reason – besides that fantastic arse of yours, I mean."_

"_Harry!"_

"_Shush now, Sunshine... Hmm, pity you can't see me sticking my tongue out. It kinda ruins the effect...  
Heh, I just had an idea to improve your scheme.. Whiskey allows me to sleep, but I always woke up with a mean headache, until I discovered that if I drink enough, I'll still have a nice buzz in the morning, so I just have to nip a dram or two to avoid the hangover."_

"_That's a good one, if you can pull it off. You'll have to deliver it quite casually, like it's a common thing for you to wake up and have a couple of pulls from the bottle before you even hit the loo.  
I'll start brewing right now. It's not that complicated, so Dobby can bring them over tonight. I'll brew enough for a week.  
Oh, and Dad says both he and Uncle Albert will be at the hearing."_

"_You're the best, Sunshine. Tell them I said 'thanks'.  
__I'll be in touch."_

When he heard the commotion outside the door, Harry carefully schooled his face into an expressionless mask, then reached over and grabbed the opened bottle. Actually, the timing wasn't that important, but he still watched the doorknob closely, so when the door was thrown open, he was in the process of knocking back a seriously large dram.  
Harry finished swallowing, took another pull, then lowered the bottle and glared towards the doorway.

"Ever heard of knocking?" his voice flat and monotone.

"Harry James Potter!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm reading. Should be obvious."

"Don't take that tone with me, young man. What are you drinking?"

"Firewhiskey. Should be obvious too."

"Hand it over at once! You have no business drinking alcohol!"

"No! It helps me sleep. If you want whiskey, you'll have to buy your own." Harry was fighting hard to keep his mask in place.

"Now you listen to me, young man. As long as you're not of age, I absolutely forbid you that stuff!" Mrs. Weasley made a grab for the bottle.

Harry's hand shot out and caught her wrist, and he met her eyes.

"Are you my mother?"

"You know I'm not."

"Are you my guardian?"

"No I'm not, Harry, but that makes no difference. You're not old enough to drink," she blustered.

"Since you're not in any position of authority, and have no business 'forbidding' me anything, I'll ask you to leave my possessions where they are. That includes my whiskey. I need it if I'm to have a half decent sleep.  
Now please leave my room." Harry's eyes were as dull, dark, and lifeless as his voice, yet held a significant threat.

Thoroughly shocked, she backed out of the room.

Sirius moved forward.

"What are you doing in this shoebox, Harry? We've set you up to share a much bigger room with Ron down the other end."

"I'm sharing with the Thunderstorm at Hogwarts," Harry retorted. "I'd like to get some sleep in my holidays at least. Besides, this is already far better than Privet Drive."

"What? This is better than what you have at home?" Sirius was appalled.

"I don't have a home. But yeah, it's better than what I've been locked up in for the last month, and it's infinitely better than the cupboard I grew up in." Harry's voice was so completely devoid of emotion, it actually scared those in the room.

"But... Why are you holed up down here? There's nothing to do here" Sirius half stated, half asked.

"It's a good place to collect my thoughts," Harry answered, taking another deep pull from the bottle. "I haven't had anything to do for a month but drink and think about Cedric, Wormtail, and Voldemort, and I need to get some different thinking done now." He held out the whiskey. "Here, have a shot."

"Err, no thanks, Pup," Sirius answered. "What kind of thinking are you doing, Harry?" he prodded. "I'd be happy to offer advice, if you think it'll help."

"I'm trying to figure out how to go about finding some friends, since it turned out that those I thought I had weren't worth crap, except for Hedwig and Ogden's Finest."

Several gasps were heard, and in the back of the group, Ron turned red, Ginny paled, and Hermione looked ready to cry.

Mrs. Weasley, having heard the exchange, all but sprinted through the corridor, heading for the fireplace to floo Albus Dumbledore.

"Why do you say that, Harry?" Sirius asked, rather alarmed. Even he hadn't thought, Harry would feel as betrayed as he obviously did.

For the first time, Harry showed something akin to emotions: He snorted! "Because every single one of those I considered friends, are too bloody busy licking the arse of the bastard who imprisoned me at Privet Drive, to even act like they care the slightest about me." Harry breathed deeply to calm himself down again, then took another drink. "Keeping me locked up with those degenerate animals, in isolation and in the dark, just after seeing a friend die, and being forced to help Voldemoron come back," his expressionless, dulled eyes pinned them one by one. "With that kind of friends, who needs the Death Eaters?" Harry snorted at the collective shudder.  
"Please leave my room. I'd like to get some reading done before I try to sleep."

"But, Harry," Hermione cautiously ventured. "We actually came to get you for dinner..."

"Yeah? So I'm so dangerous now, you need almost a dozen people to escort me down a flight of stairs?" The sarcasm could be cut with a knife.  
"No thanks. I've heard that starvation victims shouldn't be given full meals too soon. It's not healthy for them, or some such theory..." Harry was back with that maddeningly emotionless voice, and his eyes were back on the book.

"Why are you treating us this way, Harry?" Hermione pleaded. "We're your friends!" The tears pooling in her eyes were threatening to spill over now.

"No you're not! You're my minders at best. Friends wouldn't do what you've done this last month. Friends would care – you don't!" Harry didn't look up from the page, he was reading.  
"At least now I know why none of you are in Hufflepuff."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth, but failed to conceal a sob, as she turned and fled the room.

"How can you be such an arsehole, Potter?" Ginny demanded. "We've only done what the Headmaster said to do."

"...Proof positive that you don't care shit about me," Harry interrupted coldly.

"You absolute bastard!" she exploded. "Everything isn't about you and your big head!"

"I'm aware of that. It's patently obvious that everything in this cult of yours revolves around Saint Dumbledore."  
A round of gasps and a few outraged splutters greeted this statement.  
"I, however, am not a member of your little coven, and the Old Goat has no authority over me out of school. My friends would've realized this, but you all chose to shove your heads up his arse, proving where your loyalties lay."

"You know perfectly well where our loyalties lay, Potter," Ron snarled. "Now look what you did to Hermione..."

"I did nothing to Granger. Evidently little Miss Know-It-All didn't like the truth when she looked at it, Weasley," Harry interrupted again. "I know I wouldn't if I'd done what she has." Another dram went down.

"You blithering idiot!" Ginny hissed. "She likes you, you moron. She's been in a state for the last week, trying to gather up enough courage to ask you out, and then you go and do this to her, just because you're drunk. You've got a lot of making up to do now."

"Why would I want to make anything up to her?" Harry lifted his gaze from the book, genuinely puzzled.

"Are you really delusional enough to think that she'd go out with you now, after what you just said to her?" Ginny sneered. "You'll be lucky if she'll even let you apologize."

"What makes anyone think I'd go out with Granger anyway?" Harry asked. "Even if she'd actually been my friend, the answer would still have been 'no'. I have nothing to apologize for, and no urge to date her. Never had, really.  
...And no, I'm not even close to being drunk."

Sirius' jaw dropped. He'd actually been looking forward to seeing Harry and Hermione getting together.  
"B-But..." he stuttered. "I... I thought you liked her, Pup?"

"I liked her as a friend, when I thought she was one," was the court answer. "She was my sister, and since I'm not a pureblood, that rules out she and I dating. Well that and my lack of desire to date her."

"She _is_ your friend, Harry. Please think this through, and don't blame your friends for what Dumbledore has done.  
I think you and Hermione would be good for each other," Sirius ventured.

"..And I'd like to be allowed to decide that for myself, thank you very much!" Harry snapped. "I've spent enough time thinking about this. I don't blame anyone for anything but their own actions – or lack of, and I don't have any friends but Hedwig, and I sure as Hell don't blame her for anything."

Ginny was torn between groaning and cheering. Groaning because she was sure, she'd have to spend all night consoling Hermione, who'd just seen her dreams go down in flames; and cheering because it left the way to Harry open for her. It never occurred to her that his statements left her on the outside as well, alongside Hermione, Ron, and the Order as a whole.

"Quit being so bloody childish, Potter! Dumbledore only wants you to be safe, and so do we," Ron rallied. "Some way to thank us for that, you arsehole."

"And exactly how is isolating me with those aminals to the point where I considered AK'ing myself something to thank anyone for, Weasley?" Harry was back in monotone. "The only reason I'm not dead yet is this." He lifted the bottle. Looking at it, he seemed to remember what it was, and took a deep swallow.  
"Now, I believe I've already asked you people to leave twice. Are you going to leave now, or do I get to make you?" he asked, twirling his wand – which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere – between his fingers.

Startled, people began to leave the room, until only Sirius, Ginny, and Ron were left.  
"Get the Hell out! I could've used the company for the last month, but you ignored and isolated me on the Old Goat's orders. Now I want to be alone, and so you won't leave. Are you all under orders from that pathetic has-been to make sure, I only get what I don't want?"

Ron started sneering, but thought better of it and left when Harry lifted his wand. That and his dead eyes told him, he meant business.  
Ginny made a derisive snort, and flipped her hair back over her shoulder, but left before Harry could hex her.

Sirius opened his mouth to try to change Harry's mind once more, but before he'd made a sound, Harry silenced him, jumped off the bed, and pulled a note from his trunk. He shoved it into Sirius' hand and hissed: "Read it. Quickly!" before moving to the door to peek down the corridor.  
Perplexed, Sirius looked at the note, its outside reading 'read and burn'. With the look of someone who'd just had an epiphany, he opened it.

_Padfoot, I know you can't do anything about anything these days, but I have to include you in the 'Saint Dumbledore's Walking Arseholes Club' for now._

_I'm not mad at you, but Dumble's crew have to believe I am, so make sure you're suitably depressed when I've been an arse to you.  
All will be explained after my hearing._

_Harry._

_PS. I've got people working on getting you a trial. It's tough going, as we have to work around Dumble and Fudge, but I believe you'll be a free man before Christmas._

Breaking into a huge smile, he turned to Harry, who quickly made his way to him.  
"Depressed, remember?" he mubled, canceled the muting charm, and then continued _very_ loudly: "Get the fuck out of my room, Black, you useless waste of good magic!"  
With that, he unceremoniously pushed the older man out of the room, and slammed the door shut rather emphatically. Internally he did a victory dance, praising Iain's Occlumency lessons. They really made acting – not to mention lying through his teeth – a whole lot easier.

With a convincing look of anguish on his face, Sirius took in the gobsmacked expressions of the people further down the corridor. 'No doubt they heard that,' he thought. 'Damn, this is going to be some prank! I'm glad he warned me beforehand, though. That one would've really hurt!'

"He hates me," he whispered into the silence. "He hates us all, but me more than anyone, except perhaps Albus." He looked up at Remus. "We've lost him, Moony. Albus has driven him away from us. How are we going to fix this? How are we going to get him back?"

A lost look was all he got in return.

------

Dinner that night was a very subdued affair. Most were still struck dumb from what had happened upstairs; Hermione was notably absent; and Molly Weasley was happily informing everybody, that Dumbledore would come by tomorrow morning and sort Harry out, to which Sirius was heard muttering, that it was a very bad idea that wouldn't result in anything but more trouble for everybody, not to mention an even angrier Harry.

------

Once dinner was over, Ginny went upstairs to the room she shared with Hermione, to find her crying in her bed.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" she asked - with a somewhat fake concern, since she knew perfectly well what was wrong.

"H-Harry ha-hates me," Hermione wailed. "I-I really thought I'd go back to Ho-Hogwarts as his g-girlfriend, and n-now he doesn't even think I'm a f-friend anymore," she hiccuped.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "But of course, he hates all of us right now. He called us 'Weasley' and 'Granger' after you left. He even called Sirius 'Black' when he threw him out, shouting that he was a useless waste of magic."

Hermione paled. "No!" she gasped. "I knew he'd be mad at us, but I never thought he'd actually hate us. What did Sirius do?"

"He just looked like someone killed his puppy," Ginny answered, somewhat exasperated. "What do you think, Hermione? He's been so looking forward to finally having Harry staying with him, and he just told him to basically go somewhere and die!" Ginny rolled her eyes at the distraught witch. "He's devastated of course." She began pacing the room. "Mum floo'd the Headmaster. She says he'll be here in the morning to 'sort Harry out'. I'm not sure that's a very good idea, considering he's at the top of Harry's hate-list right now."

"But... But... Harry's always looked up to the Headmaster," Hermione objected. "I'm sure he'll be able to make him see reason."

"Wake up, Hermione!" Ginny snapped. "You heard Harry calling him a bastard before you left, and he continued after you were gone. And with the Tournament, and a Death Eater masquerading as his old friend without him finding out, Dumbledore is not on Harry's list of favourite people these days." She looked thoughtful for a moment.  
"...Should be good entertainment, though," she mused, "provided we stay out of the line of fire."

"Ginny!" Hermione was scandalized. "How can you say something like that?"

"Oh, come on, Hermione. This place was depressing enough even before Harry came around and hated everybody. We might as well take all the breaks we can get."

"Hrmf!"

Ginny just giggled, happy to have lightened the mood somewhat.  
Unfortunately it wasn't to last.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked in a small voice. "Do you...Do you think I'll ever get to ask him out?" She didn't look very hopeful though.

"Honestly? No... He really hates everybody right now, and he hates you and Ron even more than anybody else – save Dumbledore and maybe Sirius - for keeping him in the dark." Ginny didn't try to sugarcoat it. After all, if she could get Hermione to drop the idea completely and permanently, the road would be open for herself to make an approach. "Sirius said he thought he liked you, but he said he liked you as a friend when he tought you were one – that you used to be his sister, and he wouldn't date you since he's not a pureblood. I'm sorry, Hermione."  
The cries of anguish that answered her explanation told Ginny all she needed to know about, just how long the night was going to be.

------

Harry woke up bright and early the next morning, amazed at what not being in Little Whinging could do for the quality of his sleep. He mentally played back the night before, and found no glaring mistakes. This far the plan looked in good shape overall.  
After taking care of his morning business, doing his exercises, and grabbing a shower, he gulped down a nutrient- and an alco-away potion, got dressed, grabbed the almost empty bottle of whiskey, took a pull – to make sure his breath smelled right - and headed downstairs to what would surely just be the first awkward moment of the day.

Sure enough... When Harry entered the kitchen, the noise level went from 'quiet buzz' to 'deafening silence' in record time. Well, at least until Mrs. Weasley spotted the bottle in Harry's hand.

"Harry Potter!" the Banshee screeched. "I told you yesterday that you're not old enough to drink..."

"...And I told you yesterday to keep your nose out of my business," Harry countered flatly. "Except for Hedwig, Ogden's Finest has been the only one to neither threaten, starve, or abandon me this summer, so I'll just stick with that."

A strangled whimper was heard from Sirius, and a gasp from Mr. Weasley. Before the Banshee could get her steam back up, Harry seated himself, grabbed two dry pieces of toast, and started chewing, much to Mrs. Weasley's consternation. She immediately forgot about the whiskey, and went into a rant about 'growing boys' and 'eating enough' as she filled his plate with eggs, bacon, and sausages. Harry just moved his toast to another plate.

"What is this about, Harry?" an annoyed Mrs. Weasley asked, just as a visitor came through the floo.

"According to research, starvation victims shouldn't be given large meals," Harry's voice was as emotionless as ever. "Apparently it's a health hazard when you suddenly fill an unused stomach.. Causes indigestion or some such thing. Thanks for the thought, though..." With that, he poured himself half a cup of tea, which he then reinforced with an equal measure of Firewhiskey.

"Good morning, everyone," a most unwelcome voice greeted behind him. "Ah, Harry..."

"Mr. Potter," Harry stated in monotone.

"Pardon?" Surprise laced the Headmaster's voice.

"You may call me Mr. Potter, Mr. Dumbledore. My friends may call me Harry, and since the only friend I currently have is incapable of human speech, noone can call me that at the moment."

During this, Dumbledore had moved to take a seat across the table from Harry.  
"What was that about starvation victims, Har.. Mr. Potter?" he enquired.

"You know perfectly well what I meant, Mr. Dumbledore, but I'm sure that wasn't the conversation you came here to have."

"Very well, Mr. Potter. I've had a report that you were confrontational and childish, and I can see now, that I was wrong not to believe it."

"Oh, so that's what Mrs. Weasley calls it? I assume everybody feel I should be blissfully happy about being isolated with those degenerate animals, you dumped me with?" For the first time, Harry met the Headmaster's gaze.

Dumbledore was momentarily shocked with what he saw – or didn't see - in Harry's dull and expressionless eyes, but quickly gathered himself and launched a Legilimency scan. Less than a second later he winced at the searing pain in his head, as Harry grabbed hold of his probe and violently shredded it.

"Besides it being highly offensive and incredibly rude, you are aware that the use of Legilimency without consent is illegal, aren't you, Mr. Dumbledore?" Harry's voice was cold and dangerous. "Consider yourself lucky, my defenses aren't fully developed yet. Had they been, you would've been a drooling vegetable now." Several breaths were sucked in rather noisily around the kitchen, as Harry rose from his seat. "Now that we've cleared that, I don't believe I have anything else I want to discuss with you. Good day, Mr. Dumbledore."  
Harry grabbed his bottle and left without a backwards glance, as Sirius, Remus, and Mr. Weasley all started in on the Headmaster, and Mrs. Weasley just stood there, astonished.

Hidden away in the darkest part of the kitchen, two teenaged girls stared at each other in wide-eyed shock. After a moment, Hermione's lower lip began to quiver.  
"What have we done?" she whispered. "What have we done to him?"

"Cor Blimey! You guys really screwed up," Ginny ventured. Hermione just nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

------

The next four days were all spent in the same manner: Harry would practice Occlumency in the mornings, after he'd sent Dobby off with whatever written messages and documents he had that day. After the mind training, he'd do the physical exercises, that would hopefully combine with the nutrient potions he was taking, and negate at least some of the damage done by years of malnutrition at Privet Drive.  
In the afternoons, when everybody else battled the House in their attempts to clean it, he would raid the Library, reading everything he could find on Mind Magics, Wizarding Law, and customs of the Wizarding World, while carefully ignoring Hermione's piteous looks, Ginny's alternately puzzled and hopeful expressions, and Ron's angry glares. He didn't speak to anyone, and he didn't react to anyone speaking to him.  
What really threw everybody though, was that he would instantly leave any room as soon as Sirius or Mrs. Weasley showed up, no matter what he was doing, best illustrated at lunchtime on his second day in the house, when Sirius came into the kitchen when Harry was making himself some lunch. Harry promptly left, abandoning his half constructed sandwich, not to be seen in the kitchen again that day.

His nights were spent plotting and planning via the phone. His original problem with limited time to talk had been solved when Dobby popped in with a reserve battery from Iain, and took the original one with him for recharging. He'd felt incredibly stupid, not having had that thought himself.  
As a result of the plotting, he'd had to inform Sirius that he was about to lose his guardianship. Iain and Albert agreed that Dumbledore would try to pull something at the hearing, and when Harry would reject his counsel, he'd more than likely pull the 'I'm your guardian' card. Since Iain had already discovered that he wasn't, it would inevitably come out that Sirius actually held the job, and with that being unacceptable to the Ministry, Harry would ask for the title to be transferred to Albert Perks, who, as a solicitor and an elected member of the Wizengamot, was more than suitable for the task.  
Sirius had been somewhat disappointed, but he understood why it was necessary, and he'd been pleased with the assurance that he'd still be Harry's godfather.  
Yeah, the phone had been a definite plus this summer.

_Flashback, a few days after arriving at Privet Drive:_

"_Boy! Get down here!" Vernon Dursley hollered, obviously not happy about having his Saturday afternoon relaxation interrupted._

_Coming down the stairs, Harry saw a tall man standing just inside the door, dressed in an expensive muggle suit, and carrying a briefcase._

"_Fergus MacRae," he introduced himself in a thick, Scottish brogue. "I'm the solicitor contracted for you by your Godfather, as per your agreement," he continued, presenting a business card with a completely different name on it._

_Seeing the name on the card, Harry's face lit up.  
"Oh, yes," he said. "I'd all but forgotten about it. Please come this way, sir."  
Harry started up the stairs again._

_Imagining the guest's reaction to Harry's room, Petunia was quick to offer the use of the dining room.  
"..After all there is better space for papers and such on the dining table," she simpered._

_Harry valiantly tried to hide his smirk, but it turned into complete shock when Fergus/Iain thanked her, then asked for her and Vernon to join them.  
"Thank you, ma'am. It'll be most convenient. Could I ask that you and your husband join us for the first part of this transaction, please?"_

"_Y-Yes, of course," Petunia answered, somewhat flustered. "What is it about?"_

"_All will be revealed soon enough, Mrs. Dursley. If you would just join us, we'll get the ball rolling, and I dare say, it'll be worth your while."_

_Iain first made it clear that despite being a wizard, he was a solicitor in the Muggle world as well as the magical one. He then went on to explain – much to Vernon's displeasure - that Dumbledore had people watching the house 24/7, and that Harry was being kept in the dark at Privet Drive because it suited an old man's manipulations. Next he told them that several people were working to get Harry away from Dumbledore's control, and once they succeeded, he'd be able to leave their home, never to come back again, and they could then get on with their lives, and they could even pretend he'd never existed, if that was what they wanted.  
He then stressed that, if anyone asked, 'Fergus MacRae' was the Dursleys' solicitor and investment counsellor. Since he was polyjuiced (Harry's eyebrows shot upwards at this, and both Dursleys were astonished after being told what Polyjuice did), nobody would recognize him, but Harry being in contact with a solicitor would have all Dumbledore's minions arriving in seconds, obliviating people left, right and centre._

"_Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, this concludes the main part of this meeting. I only have a couple of minor personal matters to clear with Harry, so if you could give us a few minutes, I'll be off so I'm somewhere else when my transformation wears off."_

_When Vernon and Petunia had left the room, Iain reached into his briefcase and pulled out a mobile phone.  
"This way we can keep in touch if something unexpected happens, or if you just need to talk," he explained. "There are a few numbers already coded in. There's mine of course, and that of my partner, Albert Perks, and then there's one for a certain young lady who said to tell you that if she doesn't hear from you today, she'll hurt you badly next time you meet," he finished with a grin, as Harry's face split in a huge smile._

"_Next on the agenda is for you to learn Occlumency. I take it, you've never heard of it," Iain chuckled at Harry's puzzled expression._

"_Too right, I haven't," Harry answered. "What is it, and why do I need to learn it?"_

"_It's the art of obscuring your thoughts, or 'clouding your mind' as the name means. Dumbledore is a master Legilimens – that means he can freely read your surface thoughts, and through eye contact, he can scan your memories, if your mind is unprotected. If your mind is protected, he'll have to use a wand to break in, and then it'll be a battle of wills and power for him to get anything. Albert's daughter – Sally-Anne, she's a Hufflepuff in your year – believes that Snape uses the technique too."_

_Harry looked more and more incensed as Iain spoke.  
"Take it easy, Harry. We can't teach you to completely close your mind in a summer, but there are other possibilities that we can use. You see, the use of Legilimency without consent is actually illegal, and – according to Ancient Law – anything the victim retaliates with is perfectly legal, as long as it doesn't require a wand." Iain mirrored Harry's feral look. "..So what we're going to do, is to get you started with Occlumency today," he passed Harry an ancient looking book, "and then I'll be back sometime next week, to teach you how to detect a mind probe. Once you're able to detect it, it's quite easy to learn how to shred it. Having a probe destroyed causes quite a bit of pain, and once you really get the hang of the technique, you can leave the attacker a drooling idiot. The damage is irreversible, and it's perfectly legal."_

_Harry's smile had quite a nasty quality to it now. "Great! I think I'm actually going to enjoy reading this summer."_

"_Now, the last matter isn't quite that easy, Harry. We will need to exchange some documents at one point or another, and I'm positive that Dumbledore's people are screening your owls, so we need another, non interceptable way of doing it. We've thought about using my Elf for deliveries, but it'll only work as long as you're not under hiding-charms of any kind, and I suspect you'll be Fidelius-protected once Dumbledore moves you. If he does..." Iain looked thoughtful for a moment. "If you had an Elf yourself, it would eliminate that problem, since your own Elf would always be able to find you..."_

"_Give me a couple of days to work something out," Harry interrupted. "I'm on friendly terms with a free Elf, and I'm pretty sure he'll take the job."_

"_That'll be great, Harry. Call me when you've talked to him – and remember to key him in at Gringott's while you're at it. I've got to go now, or I'll risk transforming in front of your minders.  
...And Harry, remember to call her today, or I'll never hear the end of it. And neither will you..." _

"_I will. Thanks!"_

------

Late in the afternoon, the day before the hearing, Harry was lounging in a chair in the Library with a book and his ever present bottle of Firewhiskey, when he found himself cornered by Hermione, Ginny, and Ron, with Fred and George standing a little back from them.

"Alright, Potter," Ron snarled. "We want to know, what crawled up your arse and died since we left Hogwarts." Harry ignored him, as he had since the night he arrived.

"Why are you acting this way, Harry?" Ginny asked. "What have we ever done to you?" This time Harry actually reacted, but Ginny really wished he hadn't.. He just snorted and looked up at her, his eyes bursting with complete indifference.

"Talk to us, Harry," Hermione pleaded. "We don't deserve this. We're your friends, and all we've done is to try to make sure..."

"No you're not, Granger," Harry interrupted in his most emotionless voice. "You're the Headbastard's toadying little sycophants, and all you've done is help that malicious old goat make my summer absolute hell. Friends wouldn't do that, so I consider it proven, you're no friends of mine. Now piss off and leave me in peace." Harry closed his book, and got out of the chair.

"I need a word with you two," he pointed at the Twins. "I ran into Katie at King's Cross, unfortunately after I spoke to you. If I'd spoken to her before you, I wouldn't have given you what I did," he growled. "You do know, she's spending her summer revising and retaking her OWLs, don't you? All thanks to you two terrorizing her for months!"

"That's not fair!" Fred objected. "Alright, we've played a few pranks on her, but that doesn't make her poor showing our fault."

"A few pranks? That's what you think it is?" Harry looked for the world like he was working up a serious head of steam. "First of all, George, you lousy coward! You broke up with her – on Valentine's Day of all days – and you didn't even have the guts to tell her. You left her a bloody note! A note that she didn't find until after she'd seen you trying to suck Alicia's tonsils out through her teeth." He flashed a disgusted look. "She cried her eyes out over that for a few days." He took a deep breath, looking for the world as if he was trying to calm himself. Ater all, they didn't need to know that half of it was playacting. "Then you both decide to use her as a test subject for your stuff. A few pranks my arse! You hurt and humiliated her at least twice a day for three months! Her OWLs were abysmal because she spent all that time being paranoid thanks to you two pissants, worrying what you'd do to her next. She never got a chance to prepare herself for exams, because you arseholes had her gibbering in terror!" Harry roared.  
"Here's the new deal: No testing on anyone who hasn't volunteered. If you don't get enough volunteers – pay better. And Leave. Katie. Alone! She never did anything to deserve what you did to her, and if you touch her again, I'll make you regret it!"

"Oohh, ickle Harrykins is threatening us," Fred grinned.

"Yeah, we're scared to death," George continued.

"You should be," Harry hissed. "I duelled Voldemoron and his minions, and I'm still around..."

Fred and George looked at each other and gulped, all mockery gone.

"Mess with me, and I'll make you wish for Voldemort!" Harry told them flatly, as he turned to leave. "He'll be much kinder than I will."

Ron looked at his brothers with wide eyes, and Ginny moved to console a distraught Hermione, whose sobbing was now the only sound in the room. Things had just gone from really bad to much worse.

------

Later that evening, after dinner had been eaten (and after Harry had devoured a nice chicken dish - courtesy of Mhairi Perks, delivered by Dobby) there was a knock on Harry's door, and someone – Tonks if his guess was right – asked him to come down to meet someone.  
A few minutes later, Harry, clutching his customary bottle, entered the kitchen, his face set in the also customary, expressionless mien. The first sight to greet him was that of a very excited Hermione, fawning over a shiny new Prefect's badge, and sitting close to her were the rest of the resident students, all looking at what he supposed were their Hogwarts letters and booklists. A further sweep around the room revealed only the usual Order members, until his gaze reached the corner farthest from him, where Severus Snape was sat. Harry stiffened, swallowed a dram, turned around... and left the room, never saying a word.

"Potter, get back in here!" Snape bellowed.

"Drop dead, you slimy arsehole!"

The teens' eyes all went wide, and the Twins had to work hard to stiffle their laughs.

Since Snape was rendered momentarily speechless, Mrs. Weasley decided to add fuel to the fire.

"Watch your language, young man! Show your Professor the respect you owe him, and get back in here. Professor Snape has something for you."

"My language is none of your business, Madam, and I don't owe that stinking scumbag any respect at all. He can't possibly be a Professor, seeing as he's absolutely incapable of teaching, and even if he was, this is the Holidays, so right now he's just another smelly bastard with a Dark Mark." Harry took another drink, as if to underline his statement. "The only thing I've learnt from him in four years is, that if your protection is placed highly enough in the system, you can literally get away with murder."

A number of people eyed Snape, none too kindly, and a few growls were heard from the Marauders.

"Regardless of anything his Master says, I'm not going to subject myself to the presence of Dumbledore's greasy Death Eater pet anymore, so I'll just go upstairs again before my evening gets any more depressing than it already is.  
Good night."

With that, Harry ascended the stairs, and everybody in the kitchen turned to look at an apoplectic Snape.

Well back in his room, Harry grabbed his phone and made a call.

"_Mhairi Perks speaking."_

"_Hi Mhairi, it's Harry. Thanks for dinner. You've got to teach me how to make that."_

"_We'll see, Harry. I don't think you called just for that. Do you want me to get Albert or Sally?"_

"_No, you'll do just fine, Mhairi. I just wanted to confirm that everything is set for tomorrow. Dumbledore just sent his greasy pet to hand deliver Hogwarts letters to everybody here, and since it's a bit early for that, I assume he's trying some kind of manipulation again. Granger is Prefect, but I left the greasy one hanging, so I didn't get my letter. I think a fair bet is, I'll get the other one, though."_

"_That would make sense. You are close enough to Longbottom academically, and you're much more of a leader - not to mention much better known - so he'll have no trouble defending his choice. And of course it would get Granger closer to you, so he'd still have a source of at least some information. Five Galleons say, you'll be assigned patrols with her only._

_"What are you going to do about it?"_

"_I don't really know yet. For some reason we never planned for this, but I guess I've got at least two roads open. Either take it and use Granger to plant whatever misinformation we might need planted, or send it back with a simple 'no thanks', to sow some confusion. I guess I'll talk to Iain and Albert about it tomorrow night."_

"_Heh.. You could do that, but I'm pretty sure that a certain young lady has other plans for you tomorrow."_

"_Oh, yeah... Right.. The day after, then.  
Is everything ready for the hearing?"_

"_It's ready, Harry. Don't worry about it.  
Albert will be in very early. He heard something today about Fudge being up to no good, but he'll be there to head it off, and I'll be running interference and errands. Iain is ready to pop to Little Whinging at a moment's notice, and the girls will be here to meet Sirius, and to get him polished up and sent on to Iain and Eliza's place, if we get the chance to break him free tomorrow. Just make sure you've got your phone open in the morning, if something comes up, and you'll be fine."_

"_Right, I can do that.  
Thanks for doing this, Mhairi, and thank the Gang from me, will you?  
I'll go give Sirius a heads up."_

"_You do that Harry. We'll see you tomorrow."_

A quick disillusionment charm – the first charm he had read up on after arriving, having experienced its usefulness first hand – along with his cloak, and Harry was good to sneak around to Sirius' room with a message, basically ordering him to pack and shrink his most prized belongings, and to be ready to get out of the house with very little notice.  
After returning to his room, he busied himself with packing is trunk, leaving behind the rags from the Dursleys. That done, Dobby was instructed to pick up the trunk as soon as Iain popped to Little Whinging.  
Once all was taken care of, he drained what was left in the last bottle of whiskey, ironically as a sleeping aid this time, and dropped onto the bed.


	2. The Hearing

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his whole universe belongs to J. K. Rowling and her associates. I'm just having a good time playing with it all, and I, unlike the owner, don't make a penny from it.

**The Scottish Connection**

**Ch. 2**

**The Hearing**

After being roused by Dobby, not to mention a Dobby Special Cheese Sandwich, ungodly early on Saturday, Harry was in the kitchen and had just poured himself a cup of tea, when all Hell broke loose in his shirt pocket.  
Considering the hour, a surprising lot of people were present, presumably in order to support him before the hearing, and everybody in the room looked perplexed at the noise, except Hermione who – knowing what the noise was - looked positively shellshocked!  
Harry calmly pulled out the phone and flipped it open, briefly looking at the caller-ID. Everyone present saw his dull eyes brighten, and the corners of his mouth curl slightly upwards, for the first time since his arrival.

_"You've called Perfect Potter, the Hogwarts Hunk. He's speaking."_

"_Prat! It's me, but you already knew that."_

"_Good morning, Sunshine. What's gotten into your knickers this early? Or can't you find them?"_

Harry had to work hard not to laugh at the gobsmacked stares all around him.

_"Behave, Gilderoy Jr., or I'll revoke any and all rights you have now!"_

"_Ouch! You scare me witless, Fair Maiden, and I'd rather you screw me senseless. Does this mean that you're calling off the threesome? Pansy is going to be so disappointed."_

Several jaws dropped, Sirius looked proud, Ron and his mother both went crimson, and Hermione sported an interesting expression – somehow she managed to look both resigned and incensed.

"_Eewww! Don't be disgusting, Harry. Enough of your teenage boy dreams already. Aunt Mhairi just floo'd from the Ministry. Fudge has rescheduled your hearing to 8 o'clock, and he's moved it to Courtroom 10 for a full trial. Uncle Albert is on top of it, and 'Fergus' will move just before eight. Now you just get that cute behind of yours moving and get over there. Mhairi is waiting in the Atrium."_

"_Bollocks! I'd better get going, then. See you."_

When Harry finished the call, Armageddon erupted around him.

"Is that a fellytone?"

"You had better watch your language, young man!"

"Where'd you get that phone?"

"Sounds like ickle Harrykins..."

"...Has got himself a lady friend..."

"...And a kinky one at that..."

"How do you make that work here?"

"You... and Pansy... and..."

"Who was that calling?"

"Why havent you told anyone about that?"

...And the cacophony went on, until Harry lost his patience.  
"SHUT UP, YOU MORONS!"

"......"

"That's better." Harry glared at them all in turn. "Yes, it's a mobile phone, and who called is nobody's business but mine. I can tell you it was someone who's been a lot more of a friend than any of you – not that that would take a whole lot - and said friend just informed me that the Disaster of Magic has transfigured my hearing into a full trial, and that it's to start in 20 minutes, so I'm out of here," and before anybody could move, he'd grabbed a pinch of floo powder, and disappeared into the green flames.

Another five seconds or so ticked away, while the inhabitants, and the guests, of no. 12 Grimmauld Place just stared uncomprehendingly at each other, and then Armageddon broke loose once more. Mrs. Weasley desperately – and futilely - tried to floo Dumbledore; Hermione whimpered about Harry going to Azkaban, until Lupin silenced her; the younger Weasleys tried to guess who Harry's lady friend might be – Ginny actually got it right, but was vetoed by the others – until they agreed that since Harry hadn't told anybody about her, and adding the 'Pansy-comment', she was most likely a Slytherin - even if they really couldn't see anybody from that House successfully operating a telephone; and Tonks and Mr. Weasley departed for the Ministry as fast as they could, to see if they could catch Harry before someone else did.

------

After a nauseating journey through the Floo system, Harry was catapulted out of a fireplace in the Ministry Atrium, gracelessly landing, face first, at the feet of a rather petite brunette.

"Damnation! I hate this," Harry coughed. "You'd think that magic could come up with something just a little more pleasant than cleaning people's fireplaces as you go."

"Harry Potter, I presume?" the woman chuckled. "I'm Mhairi, and I'm afraid you'll have to endure another trip right away, before Dumbledore's people arrive to 'save' you."

"Hi Mhairi, nice to finally meet you," Harry gasped. "I'm sure I can live with another trip, now that I know it's for a good cause. Where to?"

"Albert Perks' office," Mhairi answered. "Better make it quick."

"Right," Harry murmured, and disappeared into the fireplace again, just before Mr. Weasley appeared from the one beside it, frantically looking for him.

"Good morning, Arthur," Mhairi greeted. "What brings you here this early on a Saturday?"

"Good morning, Mhairi. I'm just looking for someone, I thought would be here, but I seem to have been mistaken about that.  
What brings you here?"

"Oh, just helping Albert out a bit. Now if you'll excuse me?" With that, she entered the floo and disappeared, smirking over the Order's predicament.

"Oh my," she sighed as she saw Harry still collecting himself on the floor in her husband's office. "Hasn't anybody cast the Floo-charm on you, Harry?"

"The what?"

"Hmm.. Obviously not, then," Mhairi dimpled.  
"The Floo-charm, Harry. It keeps you off most of the soot in the system, and it helps keeping you upright when you exit. It's cast on children when they floo by themselves for the first time."

"I floo'd for the first time just before my second year, and nobody told me anything, except to throw powder in the fire, and to say where I wanted to go," he growled.

"Oh dear. It looks like we'll have a busy few weeks ahead of us then," Mhairi sighed. Then she perked (no pun intended) up: "We don't have time for those things now though. We have a Ministry to embarrass. Through the door there.." she pointed "...is a full set of new clothes for you. Get in there and get changed, so we can get this show on the road."

------

At two minutes to eight, much to the Minister's surprise and annoyance (after all, he thought he'd made sure that nobody informed the brat of the change in time and venue, before it would be too late), Harry appeared in Courtroom 10, impeccably dressed in an expensive dark suit under a forest green robe, complete with the Potter Family Coat of Arms on his chest, and his personal badge on his sleeve. Several of the older Wizengamot members eyed the Potter Arms approvingly, as it had been a long time since anybody had seen it worn. The approving glances quickly turned to raised eyebrows, as they took in the badge. Firstly because wearing a personal badge at all was akin to a declaration of emancipation, or at least a statement of intent, and secondly because the dragon and sword identified him as a warrior more than a scholar, even if they were actually meant as a recap of his personal history.  
The raised eyebrows raised even higher when it became clear that Albert Perks, who was standing right beside him, hadn't just happened to arrive at the same time as Harry, but that he had arrived with him. This understanding brought on an amusing change to the Minister, who had merely scoffed at Harry when he came in. Now he was rapidly paling, and it seemed like he was looking for somewhere to hide. Somebody had given him faulty information, and the plan to render Potter harmless – and Dumbledore toothless - had begun to backfire spectacularly, even before the trial had started. The lad wasn't supposed to know anybody of any significance but Dumbledore, yet here he was with one of the most feared and respected young solicitors in Britain. Suddenly a quiet hearing in Madam Hopkirk's office seemed a much better idea. Just a pity, it was much too late to do anything about it...

At exactly 8 o'clock, Amelia Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement, ordered the doors closed, and got the proceedings underway.

"Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot. I hereby call to order for the case against Harry James Potter for..." her face took an unhealthy colour, and she screwed her monocle tighter into her eye as she turned to the Minister. "Would you care to explain this, Minister? A case of Underage Sorcery before the full Wizengamot? Just what are you trying to pull here?"

"Of course, Amelia," came the simpering voice of the toad-like woman sitting next to Fudge. "The accused already has several warnings for the same, and is a well known troublemaker. It was thought proven, that warnings from the Improper Use of Magic Office have had no effect at all, and since the accused has also been attempting to sow unrest with his preposterous claims, that the Dark Lord is back despite being dead for almost fourteen years, it is believed that his minor offences are just preludes to a bigger scheme, which we intend to prove here," the toad-woman finished with a look that was meant to be disdainful, but only succeeded in making her even more toad-like than before.

Madam Bones shook her head and groaned. "You've got to be joking!" She eyed Harry, and to her surprise found that he seemed to have trouble keeping laughter in. He obviously had something up his sleeve, so she decided to let the farce continue.  
"Right.. The Ministry of Magic for the British Isles against Harry James Potter for Underage Sorcery, violation of the Statute of Secrecy, and attempt to dislodge the Government. Amelia Susan Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement, presiding. Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, will prosecute.  
Who will speak for the accused?"

"Well, since nobody saw fit to inform me, that an informal hearing had been turned into a full trial, I haven't had a chance to think of a defence," Harry answered. "Luckily though, a good friend, who knows quite a bit about the incident in question, has volunteered to act as my counsellor, so Wizengamot member Albert Perks will speak in my defence," he finished.

"Objection!" came a loud voice from the doors. "As Mr. Potter's guardian, I refuse the counsel of Mr. Perks. I will speak for Mr. Potter myself," Albus Dumbledore stated, slightly out of breath. Apparently he hadn't believed the initial reports from Grimmauld Place, and so had had to hurry more than his elderly lungs appreciated.

Mr. Perks inwardly grinned like a madman. Dumbledore had just presented him with an opportunity to both move their bid for Sirius' freedom much closer than they'd dared hope for, and to tear some huge holes in Dumbledore's already tattered reputation. Both were chances that he would've paid good money for, and Dumbledore – the one, besides Fudge, whose head it was all going to rain down on – had gifted them both to him, free of charge! He couldn't believe his luck – or the arrogance of the old man, obviously still thinking that whatever he said would be automatically regarded as the gospel truth.  
'Oh, well.. His loss.'

"That would've been your right, had you actually been Mr. Potter's guardian," he answered. "Since you haven't got any legal or magical authority over Mr. Potter, no matter how much you wish for it, and since you're not a member of this august body, no objection from you will have any effect in this case, Mr. Dumbledore." Mr. Perks fixed him with a glare. "But by all means stay and watch the proceedings, Sir. I may need to call upon you as a witness sooner or later." Dumbledore's jaw went slack with surprise that someone dared to question his claim, and he was building up for a rant, when he was headed off by Madam Bones.

"As Mr. Potter is underage, and since Mr. Perks is denying Mr. Dumbledore's claim of guardianship, I'm afraid we'll have to determine exactly who is Mr. Potter's guardian, before we can begin the trial," Madam Bones lectured. "We cannot allow a defence for an underage wizard to commence without approval from the guardian."

"With all due respect, Madam Director," Mr. Perks interrupted, "Mr. Potter is no longer considered magically underage." A murmur rose from the Wizengamot members at this.

"Silence!" Madam Bones banged her gavel. "Explain please," she asked in a stern tone. It was patently obvious, that the 'please' was only put in for courtesy. It was an order.

"Of course, Madam Director. You are no doubt familiar with Clause 2 of the Statutes of Conduct when employing the Wizengamot as a Court of Law, as approved and filed in 1829?"

"Yes, of course I am."

"Good! Then you'll no doubt agree with me, that since we don't know who Mr. Potter's magical guardian is at this time, said individual has not been notified, at least not in the capacity of magical guardian, as the Statute calls for, and as such, because the charges have already been read, Mr. Potter is considered of age in the Magical World, since an underage witch or wizard cannot be tried by the Wizengamot without their guardian, or guardian-approved counsel, present," Mr. Perks deduced, discreetly winking at Madam Bones, who'd had an increasingly hard time keeping her laughter in, as she caught on to the elaborate prank, Mr. Perks had played on the Ministry – or more correctly, on the Minister and his Senior Undersecretary.  
"We will of course, in the name of fairness and justice, give Mr. Dumbledore every chance to prove his claim of guardianship. If you could be persuaded to swear him in, Madam Director, we'll start right away," he finished.

"An excellent idea," Madam Bones agreed. "Will Albus Dumbledore please step up to the witness' chair?" she ordered.

As Dumbledore did so, although he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, there was a minor disturbance at the door, and an Auror came over and passed Mr. Perks a wad of documents.

Once Dumbledore was seated and sworn, Mr. Perks opened fire: "Mr. Dumbledore, you claim to be Mr. Potter's guardian. On what do you base this claim?"

"I have acted as his legal and magical guardian since the day after James and Lily Potter were killed," he replied calmly.

"Very commendable, I'm sure. However, that's not what I asked, Mr. Dumbledore. I asked you what you base your claim on. Were you named Mr. Potter's guardian in his parents' will? Or has the named guardian, or guardians, signed their rights over to you? And whether it be one or the other, can you present the legal paperwork to prove your claim?" Dumbledore looked decidedly less calm now.

"The only papers stating James and Lily Potter's choice of guardian is their will. Alas it has been sealed, so there is no way of proving or disproving anything," Dumbledore hedged.

"Please, Mr. Dumbledore. Do you take the members of this august body for idiots? I am fully aware that the Potters' will is sealed, and I am just as fully aware that it was sealed by you, in your capacity as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Therefore we now have a couple of avenues open to us: Either Chief Warlock Wallace orders it unsealed, or the Minister and Director Bones order it unsealed as evidence in a criminal case, or we use the copy, the Potters left at Gringott's. Your decision, Mr. Dumbledore," Mr. Perks finished, his smile decidedly sharklike, as the trap closed around the centenarian.

"There can not be a copy of that will!" Dumbledore sputtered. "That's impossible. I was a witness!"

"I assure you, Mr. Dumbledore, that there is a will at Gringott's that is a confirmed and certified copy of the one you sealed, whatever reason you thought you had for doing that."

"I order a fifteen minute recess, as Court Scribe Weasley produce the Potter Family files, including the sealed will," Madam Bones broke in. "Mr. Weasley, if you please."

During the recess, Mr. Perks looked over the documents, he'd been given, and then – with a very satisfied expression on his face – leaned in and whispered to Harry, that the Dursleys had signed legal custody over to himself for 2000 Pounds. Another weapon to bring to bear on Dumbledore – who spent the recess trying to catch Harry's attention, but didn't have much luck with it, as Harry studiously ignored him.

"This Court is now in session," Madam Bones' voice rang out after the break. "The first order of business is to determine the magical status of the accused. Mr. Weasley, have you produced the Potter Family files, including the last will of James and Lily Potter?"

"I have, Madam Director," Percy answered respectfully.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. You may return to your duties as Scribe," Madam Bones said.  
"Chief Warlock Wallace, will you authorize the opening of the sealed will of James and Lily Potter?"

"I authorize it," the imposing Scot rumbled, looking at Dumbledore with undisguised contempt.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock." Madam Bones broke the seal. "As the purpose of unsealing this will is to determine Mr. Potter's magical status, I will only read the guardian stipulation at this time," she informed the Court, "although there will be a complete reading before a tribunal as soon as possible, as I can already now see that both word and intent of this document has been severely violated," she warned with a piercing glare at Dumbledore. "In accordance with the wishes of Mr. Potter's parents, Mr. Potter's guardian is his godfather, Sirius Orion Black."

Ten seconds of vigorous banging the gavel later, the common outcry was down to a manageable level.

"Mr. Weasley, does the files contain any documents divesting Sirius Black of his guardiansip?"

Percy rummaged through the documents before him. "No Madam Director," he answered. "There is a document transferring legal custody to a Petunia Dursley, signed by Albus Dumbledore, but nothing pertaining magical guardianship, and nothing mentioning Sirius Black."

"I wonder how nobody thought of this, when he was sent to Azkaban," Madam Bones mused. "A most regretable oversight, for which the Ministry will officially apologize as soon as possible."

"I don't think it's an oversight, Madam Director, but that's for later," Mr. Perks quipped.

"Is that so?" Madam Bones' eyebrow disappeared into her hairline. "This might just be a decent day after all." She coughed once, straightened in her chair, and screwed her monocle firmer into place.  
"Having perused the accessible documents, the Court rules that Harry James Potter's magical guardian was not notified that his charge was to be tried. Since the trial began without the accused's guardian, or his representative, being present, Harry James Potter is from this day considered of age in the Wizarding World, with all privileges and duties that this entails." The bang of the gavel sounded very final.

Dumbledore looked sick!

"Now," Madam Bones continued, "I believe we can get on with what we've been called here for. The Ministry of Magic for the British Isles against Harry James Potter for Underage Sorcery, violation of the Statute of Secrecy, and attempt to dislodge the Government. Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, will prosecute; Albert Caspian Perks, member of the Wizengamot, will counsel the accused.  
Mr. Potter, to the charge of Underage Sorcery, how do you plea?"

"Guilty, but exempt from punishment under Clause Seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, Ma'am." Hushed conversations started all over the room immediately.

"So noted. To the charge of violation of the Statute of Secrecy, how do you plea?"

"Not guilty, Ma'am."

"So noted. To the charge of attempting to dislodge the Government, how do you plea?"

"Not guilty, Ma'am."

"So noted." Madam Bones sighed. "Madam Undersecretary, you may begin your procedure, but kindly restrict yourself to the first of the three charges, please."

"Thank you, Amelia," the toad-woman simpered. "Err.. Madam Director," she hurriedly corrected herself, after a stern glare from Madam Bones.  
Flustered, she tried to collect herself, and at the same time leveled an attempt at a withering glare at Harry. "I assume, you are not in fact familiar with the full text of Clause Seven, Mr. Potter?"

"Of course I am familiar with the text of the Clause, Madam Undersecretary. Otherwise I couldn't base my plea on it, could I now?" Harry sniped.

"Then why don't you tell the Court, what you want us to believe excuses your blatant violation of Magical Law, Mr. Potter?" Madam Umbridge asked in a fake, saccharine voice.

"Of course, Madam Undersecretary. I used magic in the evening of the second day of this month, in order to defend myself and my magic-aware Muggle cousin from an attack by two Dementors. As it was in defence of lives, Clause Seven grants me exemption from the Decree," Harry answered smugly.

"So you admit to using magic in front of a Muggle, Mr. Potter?"

"I do believe I just said that, Madam Undersecretary."

"...And you claim that you used it against two Dementors? I'm sorry to tell you, Mr. Potter, that you should have constructed a better lie for your defence. All Dementors are under Ministry control in Azkaban, so you couldn't possibly have encountered two in Surrey ten days ago."

"Madam Director," Mr. Perks interjected. "As this now looks like a conspiracy by someone in the Ministry to get Mr. Potter killed, I'd like a word please."

"That is a very serious accusation, Mr. Perks. Come forward, please."

"No need, Madam Director. I can take it from where I'm seated.  
Madam Umbridge is very emphatic in her claim, that all Dementors are under Ministry control. I'd like to ask the Minister, if he is as sure?"

"Minister, your answer, please."

"I am absolutely certain that all Dementors are under our control, Mr. Perks. There is no way, Mr. Potter could have met any, unless he went to Azkaban," the Minister stated in his usual, pompous way.

"Thank you, Minister," Mr. Perks answered. "Madam Director, on behalf of Mr. Potter, I ask if we could have a witness Pensieve brought in, so Mr. Potter can prove without any doubt, that he and his cousin were attacked by Dementors ten days ago."

"Granted," Madam Bones replied. "Mr. Weasley, please see to it that a witness Pensieve is brought here. In the meantime we'll take a ten minute recess."

Ten minutes later, the ever efficient Percy Weasley had produced the requested Pensieve, and Harry, after he'd been told how to, had placed the memory of the fateful night in the bowl.

"Just a minute," Umbridge bleated. "How do we know, the boy hasn't put some random memory in there?"

'Someone is getting nervous', Harry thought, as Mr. Perks leaned over and whispered in his ear.  
Harry lifted his wand. "This is the memory of what happened to my cousin and me, in the evening of the second of August this year. On my magic I so swear!" Harry flashed briefly, then smirked at the toad-woman as he lit his wand-tip.

After the memory had played out, the silence in the chamber was deafening. Most of the Wizengamot members had actually wanted to believe Umbridge, Rita Skeeter, and the Minister, that Harry was just an attention-seeking brat who was drunk on his own fame, but they'd all seen what happened, right in front of them. It begged an explanation as to just how two Dementors had found their way to Surrey, and who had let them go there. That aside, the fact that a mere boy, with only four years of magical education, had successfully cast a fully corporeal Patronus – something only a small percentage of adult witches and wizards could - had most of the esteemed members completely stumped.

"Madam Director," Mr. Perks began. "I believe the memory we've just seen, places Mr. Potter's actions firmly in the area covered by Clause Seven. I also believe it proves that Mr. Potter is not guilty of violation of the Statute of Secrecy, as we've just seen that the only Muggle in the area was Mr. Potter's cousin, who is registered as being aware of magic.  
Now, I leveled an accusation before the recess, and I am going to clarify my thoughts: We have the assurances of Minister Fudge, as well as his Senior Undersecretary, that all Dementors are firmly under Ministry control. However, we have just seen that two Dementors were in fact in Little Whinging ten days ago, so unless the Minister and his Undersecretary are in fact lying to us, somebody in the Ministry's ranks sent them, and frankly, there were no other targets in Little Whinging on that day – or any other days – so unless we are being blatantly lied to, somebody in the Ministry tried to kill Mr. Potter!  
My question, since I can't believe that two respected senior officials of the Ministry would lie to us, is this: Who has the authority to order the transfer of Dementors?"

A murmur broke out, and it increased in volume rather quickly.

"Merlin's Beard!" Madam Bones breathed, as she turned to Fudge and Umbridge. "Only the Minister, or his Senior Undersecretary, or I can order Dementors transferred! So that's why you attempted to railroad Mr. Potter, wasn't it?"

An indignant sputter from the Minister, and a strangled whimper from a rapidly paling Umbridge was all the answer she got.

"Mr. Weasley," Madam Bones commanded. "Get all records pertaining to the Dementors from as far back as mid-June this year. Aurors, detain the Minister and the Senior Undersecretary in here," she barked. "This Court is in recess until the Court Scribe is back with the requested documents."

Fourteen minutes later, former Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge, was placed in a holding cell, awaiting an in-depth questioning under Veritaserum, and the Wizengamot was in uproar. Withering glares and outraged comments were being sent at the Minister, and Madam Bones did the only thing she could, after some serious gavel-banging:  
"Order in the Court," she cried – several times. "After this startling revelation, I believe we all could do with some sustenance, and some time to calm ourselves. We will take a one-and-a-half hour break before we continue with the third – and most serious – charge against Mr. Potter." Her gaze swept the chamber, and found only agreeable miens. "This Court is adjourned for an hour and a half. All dismissed, but please stay within the Ministry's premises."

----------

During the break, Harry And Mr. Perks chatted about several things while they devoured their lunch. Mr. Perks explained how he knew beforehand, that Fudge was up to no good with the 'hearing': "Come on, Harry, you're brighter than this. Do you really think that a normal hearing would be called on a Saturday? No, lad, the date proves that Fudge was always going to attempt a railroad job with you. Calling all these self-important gits in on a Saturday was supposed to ensure, they were hostile towards you from the start. However, now they'll all be calling for his arse on a platter, and I won't be surprised if he's kicked out during the next Wizengamot session this Wednesday. I'll also not be surprised if a few people will want your recommendation on who's to replace him." Harry looked stunned.

"But... Why would anybody care what I think about that? I'm fifteen, for Merlin's sake. I'm just a student."

"You're also The-Boy-Who's-Name-Is-Disregarded-In-Favour-Of-Hyphenated-Nonsense-Which-Must-Be-Capitalized, Harry." Harry groaned. "After the campaign against you by Fudge and the Prophet, a lot of people will try to do a lot of smarming up to you."

"A good deduction, Albert," a deep voice rumbled in a thick, Scottish brogue, just behind Harry.  
Harry spun in his chair, only to look straight into a red tartan. As he refocused his view to take in a little more, he saw that the red tartan was a kilt, and that the kilt contained a huge, red-bearded wizard - probably the biggest man he'd ever seen, bar Hagrid. Looking closer, Harry recognized Chief Warlock Wallace, who'd taken over Dumbledore's position a few weeks before, when the Old Goat was kicked out of his seat.

Mr. Perks rose and shook the big man's hand, before turning to Harry to make the introduction.  
"Calum, this is Harry Potter, as of a few hours ago the Patriarch of the Potter Family. Harry, this is Calum Wallace, Chief Warlock, Laird of Clan Wallace, and Mhairi's Family Patriarch."

"Pleased to meet you, Sir," Harry said, as his hand disappeared into the depths of the bear-like man's palm.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Potter," the big Scot rumbled. "Several of the Clan's daughters have sung your praise for the last four years, so I'm pleased to finally get the chance to meet you and see for myself," he grinned.  
"On another note, I agree with Albert's thoughts on what will happen, Mr. Potter. I think you'd better reserve some time to think about Ministerial issues over the next few days, because you'll be swamped with calls for your opinion, as well as offers of just about anything for your support."

Harry hid his face in his hands. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" he asked noone in particular. "All I ever wanted was to be allowed to just be Harry, and maybe spend some quiet time with my girlfriend. I don't want any of this."

The Chief Warlock let out a booming laugh. "I like your outlook, lad. Keep that up, and you'll be fine," he said, as he turned to leave. "Talk things through with Albert, and whoever else you have available, then get in touch with me, and we'll see if we can find some common ground." He shifted his focus to Mr. Perks. "Good job so far, Albert. I'm looking forward to seeing what else you have in store for us."

As the Chief Warlock left them, Harry tried to digest what he'd just been told. A lot of it baffled him, not least that anyone would think that a mere fifteen year-old could have a say in replacing the Minister. He also tried to make sense of Umbridge actually noting her murder-attempt in the Ministerial logs!

"Mr. Perks..."

"Please, Harry, call me Albert. You're an adult now, at least magically, and if you still want me for your magical guardian, you should call me by my first name. After all, you don't call Sirius 'Mr. Black', do you?"

"Sorry?" Harry was even more puzzled now. "Do I still need a guardian? I thought I'd been declared of age..."

"No you don't, Harry," Mr. Perks hurried to explain. "However, since you're Muggle raised, not to mention still two years from being seventeen, you choosing a magical guardian will definitely win you points with the neutral conservatives in the chamber, especially when you explain that you want a guardian to teach you about wizarding culture and traditions, which Dumbledore apparently neglected."

"Ah," Harry's smile took a feral quality. "And it's safe to say, that going on record with that will put Dumble's brownie-account in the negative, right?"

"There is that," Mr. Perks answered, as if he'd never thought of that. "To be frank, there's another reason as well, Harry. It removes the risk of Dumbledore finding some obscure, 800 year-old loophole, that's only been used once the day after it was passed. He's an expert on those things, if he thinks he can benefit in any way.  
Anyway, you wanted to ask me something?"

"Yeah.. I wondered... What on Earth possessed Umbridge to record attempted murder in the Dementors' Log?"

"Well, she is – at least in theory – the ultimate Ministry employee. She firmly believes that the Minister's word is law, so she probably heard him mutter something about silencing you, then decided to make sure it happened. As the true Ministerial professional she is, she of course filled out the required paperwork, and since she's the one in charge of those particular files, she would've gotten away with it, if not for the files being opened at a trial."

Harry's eyes grew wide. "You're kidding, right? Not only could she be that stupid, but the rules of this place are stupid enough to let her pull it off? Please tell me, it's a joke!"

"I'm sorry, but no.. It's no joke, which is why I think you should do what Calum recommended you do... Spend some time thinking about who you'd like to run this place, then make sure your choice is made public by Wednesday morning at the latest. No matter what you may think of it, you're in a position to make a difference, Harry. Actually, once you've been acquitted here, you'll find that you're one of the most influential wizards in this country."

Harry's forehead hit the table with a thud. "I don't believe how backwards this world is," he groaned. "So many people with this wonderful ability, and not one in 100 has any measure of common sense to go with it," he shook his head slowly.

Mr. Perks snickered. "Look at the bright side, Harry," he said. "You can demand something for your support. How about actual libel laws, and some kind of press-responsibility act? With how Skeeter treated you this year, I'd think that would be something you'd like to see."

"Yeah, I would, but it's still bloody backwards," Harry grumbled.

"Relax Harry... Once we get you cleared, we'll take the time and talk this through with Iain and the Ladies. First priority is to finish this though, and then see if we can sneak Sirius through."

"Right. Do you think you can get Madam Bones to seal the chamber?"

"I might, if I have a good enough reason. Why though?"

"Do you remember the names I gave you? The Death Eaters who showed up at the graveyard, I mean?"

"Damn! I'd all but forgotten about that. There are at least three of them here today, and you said there were some you didn't know?"

"Yeah, and I think I've seen one of them here as well. Maybe a few more Aurors in there would be a wise precaution, too..."

"Good thinking! I'll get right on it."

----------

Madam Bones banged her gavel. "Order, please. This Court is now in session. After the somewhat unexpected incarceration of our prosecutor, Chief Warlock Wallace should be taking over this duty, but since nobody but Dolores Umbridge and Minister Fudge have any idea, what the charge is based on, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic for the British Isles, will prosecute.

Minister Fudge, if you please.."

"Yes, thank you, Madam Director," the Minister blustered. "Mr. Potter, have you or have you not claimed, that he-who-must-not-be-named has returned?"

"I have not, Minister. I have told several people, including you, that the dark wizard known as Voldemort regained a body in a dark ritual on the 24th of June this year, after having abducted me from the Hogwarts grounds during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament." Harry shook his head at the numerous flinches, shudders, and protests from all corners of the chamber.

"There you have it, Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot," Fudge declared triumphantly. "The accused admits to attempting to sow unrest by maliciously claiming a threat that does not exist!"

"On the contrary, Minister," Harry persevered. "I am trying to help people prepare themselves for a very real threat, since it is obvious that the Minister prefers to leave his delusions intact, rather than face the monster that is threatening us all."

"Outrageous!" Fudge stormed. "The accused is clearly delusional. He-who-must-not-be-named has been dead for almost fourteen years, and no amount of juvenile fantasies can change that. I ask that he is given the harshest punisment, the law allows for, for this thinly veiled attempt at a coup."

"Objection!" Mr. Perks' voice rang out. "No matter how secure Minister Fudge feels in his delusions, there is a quick and easy way to prove Mr. Potter's claim. I request the use of the witness Pensieve once more, Madam Director."

"Request granted," Madam Bones ruled. "Scribe Weasley, if you please."

"Objection!" a new voice called from the chamber. "I have better things to do than to sit here and listen to this obnoxious brat's inane ramblings about long dead wizards," the voice continued. "I demand an end to this farce immediately!"

"Is that so, Member Malfoy?" Madam Bones almost purred, although her tone of voice didn't really convey any feeling of contentment. "You didn't seem to have any problems spending your time here, when it looked a certainty that Mr. Potter would be railroaded to Azkaban, but now that he is offering to provide proof that your _former_ master is indeed back, you are suddenly busy?" Her voice cut into more than one member in the chamber. "I find that.... interesting..."

"I resent what you are trying to intimate here, Madam Director," Lucius Malfoy fumed. "I demand an apology, and I demand that we be let out of here at once!"

"You will be let out when I say we've finished, Member Malfoy. Until that moment, paying attention to these proceedings is one of the duties, you are sworn to perform as part of your membership of this august body. If these duties represent so much of a problem for you, you have the right to give up your seat once we have dealt with any other business for this session." The Director delivered her diatribe in a frigid, dangerous voice. "No matter what your choice, Member Malfoy, you are obligated to sit this session, and if you disturb the proceedings with another inane demand, you will be fined. Am I in any way unclear, Member Malfoy?"

"You are very clear, Madam Director," Lucius answered in a defeated tone.

'Damn!' Harry thought in awe. 'Whatever you do, Potter, never piss off Amelia Bones!'

"Check and mate," Mr. Perks murmured beside him. "Never get on her bad side, Harry. It's not a healthy place to be."

Harry gave a wry smile. "No kidding," he murmured back. "But when you're sitting at a safe distance, watching those who get on that side of her is actually great fun."

"That it is, Harry, that it is," Mr. Perks chuckled.  
"Here comes Weasley. Are you ready with the memory?"

"Yeah, it's not like it's hidden all that deep down..." Mr. Perks reached over to grip Harry's shoulder.

"It'll bring a lot of those scum down now, Harry. Fudge will be out of here before they're taken to court, so don't doubt they'll get what's coming to them this time, lad. Amelia and Calum will see to that."

Twenty minutes later, when Harry's memory of Voldemort's rebirth had played out, Fitzroy Avery, Theobald Nott, Walden Macnair, Herbert Crabbe, and Lucius Malfoy were lying on the floor, stunned and bound, awaiting removal to holding cells, and Peter Pettigrew, Honorius Yaxley, Sebastian Goyle, and Julius Flint were all wanted for immediate questioning. After the viewing of Barty Crouch Jr.'s interrogation, and Minister Fudge's reactions to that – as well as to Harry's story, the Wizengamot was in an uproar, Cornelius Fudge's days as Minister were numbered (5), and Albert Perks was having the time of his life.

"Order in the Court!" Madam Bones barked, as she vigorously banged her gavel. "Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, please show a modicum of dignity, or I will have the Aurors clear the chamber."  
Her threats did have enough effect to actually make simple thinking possible again, but not much more. Apparently she decided to lower her standards significantly, since she chose to go on with the procedure.  
"Minister Fudge," she adressed the Minister frostily, "do you have anything to add to your prosecution?"  
It was an utterly pointless question, in that everybody in the chamber were well aware that the whole case was shot, but it had to be asked in order to satisfy requirements.

"No, Madam Director, I have nothing further," a pale and defeated Minister answered. Cornelius Fudge was under no illusions that he could survive this disaster politically, if at all.

"Then I hereby declare the procecution closed, and I ask that the Jurors convene in the antechamber fortwith," Madam Bones declared with finality.

Harry watched with interest, as eight people moved towards a door in the back of the chamber. Mr. Perks told him that five of them were neutral conservatives, and the three others were low-key supporters of the pureblood bigots' cause, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Avery, Nott, Crabbe, and Malfoy were supposed to be there as well, to complete the dozen, and to ensure the seven votes needed for a conviction. It was a bit scary, that Malfoy had apparently had so much control of the Ministry, he'd been able to tailor a jury to meet his – or Voldemort's – needs, and nobody had questioned it.  
Harry began seriously reevaluating his long term plans right there and then.

As it turned out, he had plenty of time for his musings. The general noise-level in the chamber rose little by little, as the signed and sealed acquittal looked less and less sealed as the minutes ticked away, and several people, most notably the Minister, as well as a few of those, Mr. Perks had pointed out as conservative – not to say dark – members, looked more and more relieved as the time passed without a verdict.

Just as Harry was about to say something about the time taken, the Jurors finally came back in, but he couldn't discern anything from the looks on their faces, as they varied from smiles to deep scowls. He just couldn't figure out if the smiles were bad guys who were happy, he'd been convicted, or if they were good guys who were happy, he'd been aquitted. 'Oh, well.. It'll be revealed soon enough...'

"Order in the Court!" Madam Bones barked.  
"Gentlemen Jurors, have you reached a conclusion?"

"We have, Madam Director," a wizard looking older than Dumbledore answered. Mr. Perks identified him as Tiberius Ogden, founder and owner of Ogden's Finest, and a lifetime electee member of the Wizengamot, unlike Mr. Perks himself, who was elected for a 5-year period.  
"On the charge of Underage Sorcery, with six votes for, and two votes against, we find Mr. Potter guilty as charged, but exempt from punishment under Clause Seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, Madam Director."

"So noted, Member Ogden. Please continue."

"On the charge of Violation of the Statute of Secrecy, with six votes for, and two votes against, we find Mr. Potter not guilty, Madam Director."

"This is noted. Please continue, Member Ogden."

"On the charge of Attempting to dislodge the Government, with six votes for, and two votes against, we find Mr. Potter not guilty, Madam Director."

"This is noted, Member Ogden. Thank you for your efforts, Gentlemen. You may return to your seats."

Harry was stunned! Two votes against on every charge, despite Pensieve evidence that cleared him completely, and nobody as much as batted an eyelid! Harry now seriously considered building himself another future. A future that didn't include anything to do with Britain, or the Ministry of Magic for the British Isles.

Mr. Perks noticed Harry clenching and unclenching his hands, and reached over to grab his arm. "Relax, Harry. We got you off the hook, that's what this was all about. I know why you're mad, and that's one of the things we're going to talk about this next week, but you've got to stay calm now," he whispered.

"Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot," Madam Bones intoned. "By the votes of the Jurors, mr. Potter is cleared of all charges, and is free to go. Mr. Potter, please accept the Wizengamot's sincere apologies for the inconvenience this have cost you. This case is closed." A bang of the gavel followed this statement. "Does anybody have any business to bring before the Wizengamot?" she asked.

Harry rose. "I have a couple of points, Madam Director," he said respectfully. "As I'm now considered of age, I'm left without a magical guardian, and since Mr. Dumbledore has gone to great lengths to keep me ignorant of Wizarding culture, as well as the general day to day workings of our community, I'm woefully ill equipped to deal with many of the responsibilities I'm now facing." He took a couple of breaths. "Since my parents' choice of guardian is currently on the run, he is not an option, but I need to learn as much as I possibly can about our society, so I therefore ask the Wizengamot to confirm Albert Perks as my magical guardian, seeing that he already holds my legal guardianship."  
Cries of disbelief met Harry's words.

"Order!" Madam Bones barked. "Please explain, Mr. Potter. Scribe Weasley told us that your legal guardian is a Petunia Dursley, and now you say that Mr. Perks holds legal custody. I'd like to know how you reach that conclusion?"

Harry rose again. "Director Bones, Witches and Wizards. I was placed in the dubious care of Petunia Dursley – my maternal aunt – by way of Albus Dumbledore dumping me on her doorstep, the day after my parents were killed, supposedly because Mr. Dumbledore had cast a unique set of illegal blood wards, based on my mother's sacrifice, on their property. I grew up there as an unloved, unwanted burden on the family, starved, abused, beaten, and forced to function more or less as their House Elf. Until I recieved my Hogwarts letter, my room was a cupboard under the staircase, and I didn't know about magic at all. This was all – according to Mr. Dumbledore – in order to protect me from the Dark Lord's followers who wished me harm, since it is popular belief that I defeated their Master..."

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but your defeat of the Dark Lord is fairly well documented," Madam Bones interrupted.

"How can it be, Madam Director?" Harry inquired. "As I understand it, only I and the wraith of the Dark Lord escaped death that night. I'm fairly certain, Voldemort hasn't given an interview about what happened, and I know for sure that I haven't, so how can the happenings of that night be well documented?"

Stunned silence greeted his words.

"No, Madam Director. Nobody but Voldemort knows what happened that night, since I don't remember anything but my mother begging him for my life, and this brings up some intriguing questions." Harry steeled himself, and at Mr. Perks' nod, he rolled forward.  
"First of all, Mr. Dumbledore violated my parents' will, in order to secure my illegal placement in an abusive environment, and nobody objected. Why is that?  
Secondly, he claims it was done for my protection, but since nobody knows what actually happened, why did I need protection?  
Thirdly, when nobody knows what happened, and with Mr. Dumbledore – at least according to himself– doing everything to protect me, how come the story of little Harry Potter's defeat of the Big Bad Dark Lord was all over Magical Britain within 24 hours, painting a very large target on my back? And since only Mr. Dumbledore himself, Minerva McGonagall, and Rubeus Hagrid had seen the scar on my forehead, how come it's described in amazing detail in each and every fictive – not to mention illegal – story written about me, making me easier recognizable than almost anybody else, save Alastor Moody?  
Lastly, if I really needed protection that badly, why was I kept ignorant of magic until I got my Hogwarts letter? Why wasn't I given training to at least the level that most children from magical families are at when they start school? As it was, I was basically a sitting duck for all my first year."

"I... I can't give you any satisfying answer, Mr. Potter, but rest assured, these questions will be investigated. I give you my word on that," Madam Bones shakily answered.

"Thank you, Madam Director, I appreciate that." Harry sketched a bow, then shot a look in the direction of a nauseous looking Dumbledore.  
"Now, to get back to your initial question. I _know _Mr. Perks is my legal guardian, because the loving family, Mr. Dumbledore dumped me with, sold their custody this morning, to a man they don't know, and whom they've never met, for the paltry sum of 2000 Pounds. For those unaware of the exchange rate, that's 400 Galleons." A storm of outrage rose in the chamber, as Harry turned to pin Dumbledore with a look of utter contempt.  
"400 Galleons, old man. That's all it took to render your impenetrable defenses void. Just my luck that Mr. Perks had the idea before Voldemort. Ten years of sheer Hell, and anybody could've pulled me out of there at any time, and for any reason. Do you feel good about yourself? Do you sleep well at night?" Then he turned to Madam Bones.  
"Madam Director, I'm not aware of the proper procedure for these things, but I ask that charges to be leveled against Mr. Dumbledore for kidnapping, child endangerment, criminal neglect, violation of a magical will, fraud, and interference with magical mail for starters." A series of gasps and outbursts of 'no!' were heard. "And let me just finish as I started, by asking the Wizengamot to confirm Albert Perks as my magical guardian, thank you." With this, Harry sat back down, and it was clear for all to see, that he had to work hard to keep his composure. It gained him quite a lot of credit with the neutrals, that he actually succeeded.

"Order!" Madam Bones cried out for what seemed like the 100th time. "Mr. Perks, do you have any documentation to back up Mr. Potters claim?"

Mr. Perks rose. "I have, Madam Director. If I may?" he took a tentative step towards the dais.

"By all means, Mr. Perks. Please come forward." He approached, and the documents changed hands.

"These documents does in fact confirm Albert Perks as Mr. Potters legal guardian as of this morning," Madam Bones informed the chamber. "Bearing in mind that Mr. Potter technically doesn't require a magical guardian, I see no problem in granting his wish. Any objections?" Her gaze swept the chamber.

"Court Scribe, please note that by Mr. Potter's own choice, Albert Caspian Perks has been confirmed as Mr. Potter's magical guardian," she looked out at the chamber again. "Any other items of business?"

"One more thing, Madam Director," Mr. Perks ventured.

"Yes Mr. Perks?"

"In Mr. Potter's memory of the Dark Lord's resurrection, we all saw Peter Pettigrew alive, if not too well. It is my understanding that killing him was part of what landed Sirius Black in Azkaban, and we've all seen now that he didn't. In my opinion, this begs for a trial for Mr. Black, since something about his incarceration clearly wasn't right."

"He may not be guilty of murdering Mr. Pettigrew – alright, he clearly isn't guilty of that – but he was convicted of murdering a dozen Muggles as well, not to mention betraying James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord," Madam Bones answered.

"Was he?" Mr. Perks asked. "I'd very much like to see the transcript from the trial then. Mr. Potter has told me a fascinating story about meeting Mr. Black and getting his side of what happened, and that side doesn't correspond even remotely with the official one. Perhaps we can have the transcript picked up, while Mr. Potter shows us his memory of his meeting with Mr. Black?"

'This could get really interesting', Madam Bones thought. 'Albert wouldn't do something like this unless he was absolutely certain. I'm glad I was in St. Mungo's when they shipped Black off. This could get painful for someone'.  
"That would be acceptable. Scribe Weasley, could you please fetch the transcripts of Sirius Black's trial? In the meantime, we will watch Mr. Potter's memory."

Once again the Wizengamot chamber experienced stunned disbelief, as Harry's memory ended. Very quickly though, the silence was replaced with outraged demands for the Minister's head on a platter, after he'd once again demonstrated mindnumbing incompetency on top of his usual arrogance.  
Dumbledore's uppermost extremity was in high demand, too. While the Minister was wilting under the onslaught, Percy had made his way up to Madam Bones, empty handed.

"Madam Director, I was unable to locate the transcripts, and when I double checked with the court dates for the last two months of 1981, there was no mention of a trial against Sirius Black. I'm sorry, Ma'am."

"Order!" Madam Bones' now very familiar battle-cry rang out. "Mr. Perks, I'm sorry to say that Scribe Weasley has been unable to locate the transcripts, and when he double checked, he couldn't find the trial in the protocols either." She narrowed her eyes at him, an impressive feat when one eye is held open by a monocle. "Do you perchance know something, I don't?"

"I'm sorry, Madam Director, but we had to do it like this, otherwise noone would have believed us." Mr. Perks had the decency to look contrite. "I do in fact know, that Sirius Black was never given a trial. He was never even interrogated! He was just stunned, bound, and shipped off to Azkaban there and then, courtesy of Albus Dumbledore, Bartemius Crouch, Millicent Bagnold, and Cornelius Fudge."

Pandemonium reigned in the chamber.

----------

"Well, that was fun," an exhausted and exasperated Harry quipped sarcastically two hours later, as he and Mr. Perks were making their way through the Ministry, after having summoned Dobby to go to Grimmauld Place and get Sirius out of there, before Dumbledore could get a hold of him. "Anyways, where are we going? I thought we were going to floo from your office..."

"We'll floo from whereever it's most convenient, Harry, but we're not done here yet. We're going to the Department of Mysteries, to see their Master Healer about your scar. Something isn't right about it."

"Oh.. Alright. But, please, tell me about these things before you just make me do them, OK?", Harry asked.

"Right. I'm sorry, Harry. It must have slipped my mind at some stage," Mr. Perks said contritely.

"It's OK. I just don't like being moved around without knowing why. Bad experiences with that..." Harry trailed off.

Mr. Perks looked uncomfortable. "I'll try to remember that, Harry." They went on in silence.

"We're here," Mr. Perks finally said, as they stood by a featureless door.

"Hmm.. These people like their privacy," Harry mused. "There's nothing here to tell what's inside."

"Yeah," Mr. Perks agreed. "They have the philosophy, that if you don't know where to go, you don't have any business being here anyway."

"Smart people," Harry stated. "I didn't know there were any of those in the Ministry at all, 'cept for Madam Bones."

Mr. Perks quirked a smile. "There are a precious few, Harry, and I'll try to tell you about them all before Wednesday. They're all nice to know, and even better if they're friends."

"I'll keep that in mind. I still think this whole thing's a bloody joke, though."

A tall form in a drab, grayish robe approached them.

"Welcome to our little hideaway, Mr. Potter. We've been expecting you for a year now."

"Excuse me?"

"The Prophecy, Mr. Potter. The one you were informed of a year ago. We've expected you to come by to hear it ever since."

"What Prophecy? I haven't heard a thing about any prophecy."

"You were informed by owl on your fourteenth birthday, Mr. Potter, and we recieved an answer that you would try to make time to come here."

"...."

Three...

Two...

One...

Ignition...

"DUMBLEDORE! THAT GODDAMNED GOATBUGGERING SON OF A SYPHILISTIC FLOBBERWORM!" Harry detonated, wild magic warping the air around him. "If it wasn't because he'd probably like it, I'd shove a bowl of lemon drops so far up his arse, he'd choke to death on it!" He made a highly visible effort to calm himself down to the normal temperature of liquid lava.  
"Sir, we'll need your testimony, or that of someone from your department who knows about this, when Albus Dumbledore is going on trial," he said, turning to the Unspeakable. "I have never recieved anything whatsoever from this department, and I have certainly never written anything in response to what I've never recieved," he ground out through clenched teeth. "But by all means, let's go and listen to this Prophecy, since we're here anyway. Maybe it'll supply some answers."

----------

An hour later, having visited the Hall of Prophecy, as well as the department's Master Healer, a dazed and highly confused Harry was led to a Floo-connection by an incensed Albert Perks. The Prophecy had indeed supplied some answers, and none of them were good. Even worse was the Master Healer's interpretation of the scan, she'd performed on Harry's scar. It basically consisted of a quick explanation of what she'd found, what to do about it, and what the results should be, followed by fifteen minutes of ranting and swearing about overly self-confident and senile old men, and their willingness to take their own shoddy guesswork as gospel. In short – if the scan had been performed, and acted upon, soon after Voldemort's demise, Harry would've been scar-free, and Voldemort would've been gone for good a long time ago. That would definitely be added to the charges against St. Dumbasadoor!

"I'm having a really hard time believing all this," Harry murmured. "I mean, I kinda knew already that Dumble isn't what he wants people to think he is, but the only two things that can make all the pieces fit, is that either he actually wants me dead, or he's so senile, he should've been in St. Mungo's more than twenty years ago. Or it could be a combination..."

"The Dark Lord Dumbledore," Mr. Perks grumbled. "He's so convinced of his own greatness, he doesn't care how many have to die, and how many lives he destroys, to prove him right in his own mind."

A klaxon suddenly made a lot of noise in the back of Harry mind. "The Dark Lord Dumbledore! Could the Prophecy – if it's for real – actually be about him? It would explain a lot," he wondered. "Nah, he would've just killed me when he had the chance."

"Maybe we'll know one day, Harry. For now, let's just get out of here. I believe there are some people waiting for us." With the casual ease of long practice, Mr. Perks weaved in and out through the labyrinth of corridors, skillfully avoiding press, backslappers, and wellwishers alike, until they finally reached an office with a floo-connection. "This is restricted, Harry, so we'll floo to my office first, then to Blacket House. Off we go."

----------

Harry was still marveling at the unusual feat that was two consecutive journeys through the Floo without landing arse over teakettle, as he took in his surroundings.  
The parlor he'd arrived in was definitely designed to impress, even if it wasn't a grand room as such. Actually it wasn't much bigger than the average entrance hall, but a lot of thought had gone into the decorations, and the carved ceiling was nothing short of magnificent.  
He startled as Mr. Perks arrived just beside him, and a faint flush crept up as he – finally – caught sight of the line of people standing along the far wall, each wearing their own amused expression.

Mr. Perks cleared his throat. "I see we were expected. I wonder why.  
Harry, you know Sirius of course, so we'll just pretend he's not here, if we ever get that chance." Several dramatic sighs, and a few coughs erupted from the line.

"We need to talk, Harry," Sirius said. "I've got a few axes to grind with you, as well as a laugh or two to share."

"We all need to talk, Padfoot," Harry replied, "but I'd prefer if it doesn't have to be today."

"Sure, Pup. I can hold back on most of it."

Mr. Perks continued. "Next to Sirius, we have Mhairi, who you've met too."

"Thanks for helping me out, Mhairi. I can't tell you how much it means."

"You're welcome, Harry."

They continued to a slender, blond woman, who stood next to a tall, balding man. Both looked a few years older than Sirius. "Next in line is my sister, Eliza, and her husband, Iain, who is the owner of this place, and who you know better as Fergus MacRae."

"Pleased to finally meet you," Harry said as he shook hands with Eliza. "And nice to see the real Iain," he continued with a wink.

Next in line were two girls who looked a lot alike, except for the difference in height. The first was a short (as in four foot ten), voluptuous brunette, with tight little ringlets tumbling down to her shoulders, and stylish, bronze-rimmed glasses; and the second was equally shapely, seven or eight inches taller, and had softer, chocolate curls down to mid-back. Both had dark brown eyes, bordering on black. "Next is my daughter, Sally-Anne, fifth year Hufflepuff, who I believe you know from school, and beside her, we have my honorary – and Iain's biological - niece, Isobel Murchison, seventh year Slytherin and your new Head Girl."

"Hi Sally. I'm sorry we don't know each other better, but it's not like we're encouraged to mingle when in school."

"It's OK, Harry. I guess we'll get the chance now."

"Yeah.. Better late than never, right?" he said, turning to Isobel. "Pleased to meet you. I can't say I know you at all, but I know of you, in particular your nickname, which I won't repeat here."

"Please do! I worked hard for years to earn that name," she gushed with a peculiar lilt to her speech, then winked at him.

"Alright," Harry shrugged. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Ice Bitch. I never thought I'd be elevated to such an honour, from my lowly station in life." He kissed her hand in an exaggerated, formal manner.

"Oh, Mr. Potter," she breathed. "I'm so thrilled to have been noticed by an important and upstanding wizard such as yourself, good Sir. I think I'll just go and swoon," she simpered, an over-the-top look of nauseating adoration on her face. Strangled laughs were heard from Sirius and Mhairi.

"I'll get you, Miss Murchison. Sooner or later, I'll get you," Harry threatened mock indignantly.

"Oohh! Please do. I'm sure that with your revered name, along with a modest bride price, my Laird will be overjoyed to sign me over to you. My life will be complete then, and I'll be able to die happy... After walking funny for several years prior, of course."

Harry snorted, Sally snickered, and Isobel crowed. "I win," she proclaimed, as she did a little dance on the spot, then marked a point in the air. "Ice Bitch, one – Golden Boy, nil."

"How does she do that every time?" Mr. Perks murmured, shaking his head. "Anyway," he continued, moving along to a boy of eight or nine, with drab, brownish hair and hazel eyes. "This is my son, Steven, who'll start his first year at Beauxbatons next month."

Harry blinked. This boy was even shorter than he'd been at eleven himself. But then again, Mhairi was perhaps a hair over 5 feet, and Sally-Anne was even shorter, so it probably ran in their genes. He held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Steven. Looking forward to school?"

"You bet!" the boy replied. "I can't wait. They say, they actually teach Potions and History there." Everybody cracked up.

"Good on you, Steven. I envy you."

The last person in the line was a very familiar, slender girl with honeyblond hair in a pageboy cut, delicate features, and deep blue eyes. "Last, but by no means least, we have Iain and Eliza's daughter, and my niece, who I'm....."

When Harry started to register anything again, he found himself with his arms full of warm witch. A warm, soft, enticing girl, who had her legs wrapped around his waist, and who kissed him like she'd devour his tongue, soul, mind, and heart, and Harry was more than pleased to let her, especially if the suction could redirect some of the blood that was currently speeding southwards.

"Yes," Mr. Perks commented in a dry, technical manner. "I suspected you two might know each other from somewhere."

Finally, the need for air ended the kiss, just as Iain cleared his throat. They still hung on very tightly to each other, though. "Damn, I've missed you, Sunshine," Harry murmured into her hair.

"I know," she whispered. "As good as the phones are, there's no replacement for this." She molded herself even closer against him. "It seems the nutrients are working," she commented. "We're almost the same height now, and I don't remember you filled out that much." She flushed and her eyes widened. "...and I definitely don't remember that much filling _there_, Mr. Potter," she murmured huskily in his ear.

"Wench!" he mumbled. "You know what you do to me." He put her down, and stepped back a little and looked her over. She really did things to both him and his libido, and the thin, short, white sundress she was wearing, didn't do anything at all to diminish the effects. On the contrary, it amped them up considerably. "My God, you're beautiful," he whispered, as he pulled her in again for an encore of her welcome-kiss.

"Right you two," Eliza drawled. "There are underage witches and wizards here, so I think you'd better take a step back for now." The glimmer in her eyes belied her stern tone, though.  
Once they had disentangled themselves from each other, and wore identical, properly chastised looks, Katie turned towards Harry again, eyebrow arched. "Threesome with Pansy?" She set up a nauseous expression. "Something you've forgotten to tell me, Potter?"

"Oh, yeah..." Harry looked sheepish. "Sorry about that, but it was too good not to use. I was surrounded by half the Order, including the Marauders, McGonagall, Granger, and the Weasleys. I just couldn't justify letting it go," his eyes shone with glee.

Deep silence reigned, as the people around him replayed his words, then snorts, snickers and giggles broke loose. "You didn't?" Mhairi fought hard to contain her mirth.

"He did," Sirius confirmed. "It made for a very entertaining morning, let me tell you that. I never thought I'd see my Head of House blush quite like that. Truly a sight to see. And Molly is probably still ranting about hussies and 'her poor Harry'. The Weasley kids set about guessing who Harry's secret girlfriend might be. I can see now, that Ginny actually got it right first time, but the others nixed her, so since Pansy was mentioned, they settled on an undisclosed Slytherin, with a Miss Greengrass as the most likely candidate." That brought Isobel into tears of laughter.

"I know several Slytherin girls who'd like a piece of the Golden Boy, but Greengrass isn't one of them. She's much more likely to try to seduce Katie." Another round of laughs erupted.

Once he'd gotten his breathing under control, Iain stepped up. "Right, everybody. As we've now gotten the hellos out of the way..." he turned to see his daughter wrapped around Harry again. "...well most of us at least..." several snorts were heard, and a couple of almost identical blushes were seen. "...I'll suggest we remove ourselves to the sitting room, where I've been informed that there's a glass of Champagne waiting for us, to celebrate Harry's newfound freedom, as well as Sirius' release to custody. Once we've properly celebrated, I believe there will be a meal waiting, and then we can get on with the planning and plotting, as well as getting some answers from Albert and Harry. I don't think I'm the only one who's anxious to know, what else has been going on today."

It seemed that everybody agreed, and amidst amicable chats and good-natured ribbing, they made their way after their host.


	3. Freedom, plans and talks

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his whole universe belongs to J. K. Rowling and her associates. I'm just having a good time playing with it all, and I, unlike the owner, don't make a penny from it.

A/N: My apologies for the wait. My muse disappeared on me a while ago, and when she came back and saw what I'd written in her absence, she committed suicide.  
A number of connoisseurs recognized the tip of the hat to Doghead Thirteen in ch. 2. He'll pop up again from time to time. He's the creator of 'Harry MacFeegle' and 'Harry Johnson', not to mention the utter awesomeness that is 'the Book of Dobby'.

**The Scottish Connection**

**Ch. 3**

**Freedom, plans and talks**

It was Sunday morning, and Harry was slowly coming to, after a Saturday night that had run a little later than it was supposed to. As the synapses that controlled his higher brain functions slowly began firing, he started cataloguing the differences from yesterday morning that he could hear, smell, and feel, even before he considered opening his eyes. Things like a luxurious bed; a pleasant temperature in the room; the scent of lilacs in his nostrils; and something heavy, warm and soft draped over him, where he was certain he'd had a light blanket when he went to sleep.

When his hands prodded the form on top of him, they encountered what he believed was a feminine posterior, and a lovely one at that, encased in what had to be a pair of the tiniest knickers known to man. Roaming further, the hands crossed a lot of warm, smooth skin, and lastly, they found two soft, firm mounds which sent his senses into overdrive.

'Damn!' he thought. 'I hope I'm not seeing brown when I open my eyes'. Internally counting down from three, he quirked an eye open. 'Blonde. Phew! I'm safe', he mentally congratulated himself. 'Would've taken some explanation if she'd been a brunette'. He shivered. It wasn't that the concept of waking up under a severely under-dressed Sally or Isobel was repugnant to him in any way. Quite the opposite, really. He _was_ a teenaged boy after all, and they were both really nice, very pretty, and _very_ healthy girls, but the thought of what the young lady currently on top of him would do, should she find him in this position with one of her cousins, was downright terrifying.

Thinking a little further, it dawned on him that his relief might be a tad optimistic. He was safe from Katie's terrible vengeance alright, but how about her parents? There was an outside chance, they wouldn't appreciate finding their near-naked daughter in bed with him, regardless of him clearly remembering going to bed alone.

Hearing the muffled sounds of a household waking up, he decided to wake up Katie before someone came in and screamed bloody murder at them.

"Katie..." He regretfully moved his hands to safer areas, and gently shook his 'comforter'. "Wake up." She made an indecipherable sound while burrowing her face deeper into his neck, and ground her... assets... into his torso, causing him an immediate - and rapidly growing - problem.

"Don't want to," she rasped. Then she giggled, and her breathing seemed to change. "Feels like you're up already."

Harry groaned softly. "Of course I'm up. I've got the sexiest witch in Gryffindor, if not the whole bloody school, lying on top of me, wearing two square inches of fabric. There's no way, any male with working bits wouldn't be up in my situation." He slid his hands down to her derrière and squeezed, making her moan. "Now can we get going, before I do something to you that I'm not quite ready for, and your dad definitely wouldn't approve of? I'd rather not get myself killed by him on my first day here." She wiggled her posterior firmly into his hands, not helping his growing problem at all.

"I'd much rather lie here all day. I'm really comfy like this." She nibbled his neck, and his problem got worse still. "Oh... and if you intend to stay with us, you'd better learn that it's mum who's the dangerous one, and she knows I'm here."

Harry winced. "Now you tell me?! Do you think that I'll at least be allowed time to write out a will?"

"Don't be such a sissy, Harry," the amused girl retorted. "You can stand up to Dumbledore and his Order; the Dark Lord and his minions; the Minister and his lackeys; and Amelia Bones and her monocle - and you're scared of little old mum? She loves you already and, as I said, she knows I'm here."

"Easy for you to say. It's not your life on the line here," he pointed out.

"Pussy!" she giggled. "She's not going to kill you, you know. Castrate you with a wooden spoon is a definite option, but she'd never kill you. Uncle Albert likes you, and he might get a tad upset if she goes and makes you dead," she finished with another giggle, as she rose in all her glory to straddle him. She wiggled a little. "I really like your idea of rising in the morning," she sighed.

By now, Harry had rallied most of his vital functions, and a thought surfaced: 'This isn't like Katie at all. I wonder what's happening'.

"What's going on, Sunshine?" he asked quietly. "Why....?" He gestured helplessly. "This isn't like you." She flinched.

"Why do you ask, Harry," she asked, more than a little scared. "Don't you like what you see?" He sighed.

"Katie... I'm fifteen, male, and looking at my gorgeous girlfriend, who just happens to be sitting almost naked on top of me - in my bed no less. Of course I like what I see. I just want to know why... Why this? Why now? Why here?" She flushed and looked anywhere but at him. Harry sighed. "Katie... Please."

"Mum woke me up around two because you had a nightmare," she murmured. "She said, I would probably be a better choice than her to go check on you."

"Thanks. You must've done a good job. I don't even remember waking up." He brought his hand up to caress her cheek. "But there's more to it than that, isn't there? I distinctly remember you wearing a nightie when we said goodnight, so why don't you now?" Katie looked down, flushing once more. Harry sighed again. He suspected he knew the reason now.

----------

Downstairs in the kitchen, Eliza, Iain, and Sirius were finishing their breakfast.

"So, what's on today's agenda," Sirius asked noone in particular.

"Well," Iain pondered. "I guess Albert will come over at some point. I'm sure he'll have a few dozen wads of documents to go over with Harry," he smiled evilly, "and I assume the girls are going out shopping for the Potter Patriarch, while he's otherwise occupied. The Chocolates will probably seize the chance to subject Katie to the full grilling, while Harry isn't there."

"Chocolates?" Sirius' eyebrows rose.

"Yeah... It's what we've always called them. Sally and Isobel, that is. They've both got this dark chocolate colouring, while Katie's as light as they come" Iain looked thoughtful for a moment. "Speaking of Katie... Where is she anyway?" he asked, turning to Eliza. She sighed.

"She's with Harry."

"She's where?" Iain growled. She growled right back.

"Stop right there, you big lug! Your daughter is currently in her boyfriend's bed, and I suspect in his arms, because said boyfriend had a nightmare. I thought she'd be the best one to calm him down, so I woke her up and sent her to him. Now since you're already all worked up, I may as well tell you that she seemed to 'forget' her nightie when she went there, and I'll also tell you that you'll leave them both alone about it," she said sternly, looking for the world like a lioness defending her cub. "Harry is far too noble to do more than a bit of touchy-feely, if that much, and Katie's got issues with her looks. This may or may not be a way to settle them, but either way you won't mention it. Are we clear?"

At the same time Iain said "yes, dear," Sirius said "Issues? Why would she have issues? She's a very pretty girl, and judged by Harry's behaviour last night, she doesn't have anything to worry about as far as he's concerned. He hardly noticed Sally and Isobel after they'd said hello, unless they spoke directly to him. He's got it bad, he has."

"I know that, and you know that, and Harry knows that," Eliza sighed. "Sally and Isobel both know as well, but Katie doesn't. At least not consciously. She compares herself to her cousins, and they're both quite voluptuous girls, courtesy of the Wallace genes, while she's built completely different herself. She sees a lot of eye-catching curves, deep brown eyes, and loads of thick, luxurious hair, all of which she doesn't have, and no matter how good she actually looks herself, it makes her feel like a scarecrow. She's terrified that Harry will catch on to Isobel having her eyes on him, and then dump her like that Weasley boy did. It's quite typical and perfectly normal for a teenaged girl, and it's a bloody nightmare for the teenaged girl's mother! I'm kinda counting on Harry to open her eyes to her own qualities, and if a 'forgotten' nightie can help with that, then so be it."

"Oh!" Both men looked sheepish.

"Moving along swiftly," Iain took over, "we need to take Harry to Little Crossroads to take control of whatever wards are still there, and then on to The Pottery. I don't know if he can take it over today, or if he needs anything special for that first. Albert should be able to tell us when he gets here. The Pottery will be a great place for him to train, and we plan to work him over at least four to six hours a day until school starts again. We may need to get the girls in on it too, or at least Katie. Albert and I will work with him on Mind Magics for an hour or two in the evenings. Both his electives at school are useless to him, so Eliza will tutor him in Arithmancy and Runes whenever possible. Then we'll see if we can get him a placement test first thing when they go back." He took a sip of his tea, as he sorted through his mind.

"We're counting on you to teach him how to fight properly, rather than duel formally, although we may be able to persuade Calum to give him a few lessons on how to apply his available power - and by all accounts, he's got a lot of it. My thought is that you should concentrate on a few hexes and charms, and make sure he can put everything he has behind them. Things like blasting- and cutting hexes, bludgeoners and banishers. I mean... For Heaven's sake, he opened against the Dark Lord with a disarming hex! Teach him how to shorten incantations as well, or to make his own."

"OK," Sirius commented. "From the top: Why Little Crossroads, if he's going to be at The Pottery? Why only four to six hours? And Calum who?"

"He'll need to control Little Crossroads because nobody other than the inhabitants will ever be able to apparate into The Pottery, and you can't floo in without being cleared and keyed into the wards. Little Crossroads is only a half-mile down the road from The Pottery, and it will make a good apparition- and floo-point, since we believe it to be best to keep direct access limited to him alone at the moment." Iain paused to take another sip of his tea.

"About the four to six hours, it's only for the fight training. Mind Magics, as well as what Eliza has in store for him, comes beyond that. And still we have to remember that he's a teenager; that he'll want time with Katie; and that he's still taking nutrients, so we can't work him as hard as Bones used to work you guys." Sirius shivered in remembrance of the aches and pains, Amelia Bones used to inflict on him in training.

"Calum is the Chief Warlock, as in Calum Wallace, Mhairi's Family Patriarch and Katie's godfather. According to Albert, he's taken a shine to Harry - and also according to Albert, Harry has a lot more magic than he's shown so far. Calum has ways to maximize power output, regardless of level, that very few will ever learn. I think the last one he taught was Katie, after he found out how low powered she is, but we think he might just be persuaded to teach Harry."

"Wow," Sirius gulped. "You guys have really thought this through. I hadn't really understood how much planning you guys have been doing."

"We'd like to think so, yes. Actually a lot of it comes down to Harry's input over the last month, and Mhairi and Eliza sorting through it, and then putting something useful together. Now we just need to see the snitch released." He paused... "Of course the thing about the Prophesy they told us about changes some things, but I still think the initial plan is sound." He stopped as a thought hit him.

"Hmm.. Actually we're going to have to talk some politics over the next few days as well. Albert believes, Harry could hold the key to the Minister's chair, and Calum agrees, so I guess he'll need a quick who's who. It's not like he can make an informed decision when he doesn't know any of the possibilities. Oh... And he needs to see the Master Healer at the Department of Mysteries again. There's a ritual that needs doing to fix his scar."

"Oh... kay," Sirius drawled. "And what's after lunch?" Iain and Eliza chuckled.

----------

"Katie... Look at me... Please." She just blushed harder, and Harry thought he heard a suspicious sniffle too. A sudden flash of inspiration allowed him to reach for her, and pull her into a hug, and a few seconds later, Katie was crying her eyes out on his shoulder. Except for the crying part, Harry had to admit that being chest to breasts with his girlfriend, without fabric to ruin the feeling, was an enjoyable experience.

Eventually, her crying wound down to a quiet sniffle, and Harry thought it might be safe to reopen the interrogation. "Sunshine... Is all this about Sally and Isobel?" he asked gently.

Katie looked like a deer in headlights. "Wh-what do you mean? Why would th-they have s-something to do with anything?"

"Please, Katie," he retorted. "I may not be a Ravenclaw, but I'm neither stupid nor blind. Yesterday you were a lot more possessive when they were near, than when they weren't. As if they were threats to you... To us. They're not, Sunshine. Nobody are."

"How can you say that?" she hiccuped. "Have you even looked at them? They're beautiful, and I know at least Bel wouldn't mind a go at you."

"Of course I've looked at them. I'm a teenaged boy, and the Handbook says, I should ogle pretty girls whenever I can," he attempted to joke. "They're both nice girls, and they're good looking too - so what?"

"That's exactly what I mean, Harry!" she all but shouted. "You've got two beautiful girls with curves in all the right places hovering around you, and at least one of them wants you. Where does that leave plain tomboy Katie? I even drop my top, and you don't even touch my tits! You just want to know why I show them to you," she complained angrily.  
Broadside delivered, she made to stand, but she didn't quite make it before Harry pulled her in again.

"Whoa! Calm down, Katie. What's the problem here? I don't really care where they've got curves, you know. Okay, it makes them a lot easier on the eyes that they've got them where they're supposed to be, but it really doesn't matter. As far as I'm concerned, I'm dating you, not them."

"Why?" Katie mumbled into his neck - after she'd given up struggling.

That brought Harry up short. "What?"

"Why are you dating boyish Katie, when you could have someone like Bel? She's got curves, beautiful curls, and gorgeous eyes - and what've I got?"

"Excuse me?!" Harry was baffled to say the least. "Katie, when was the last time you looked in a mirror?" She snorted and looked away. "Seriously! I'm dating the prettiest girl in Gryffindor. What would I want someone else for?"

"You don't have to say things to make me feel better," she said dejectedly. "I know I'm not a great catch, and I can't hold a candle to Bel and Sally - or someone like Alicia. I just wanted to know if you're dating me out of pity," she trailed off.

Harry was thunderstruck! "Please tell me you don't mean that, Katie." She just looked sullen, then looked away again. He shifted his grip from her waist to her shoulders, and then leaned back a little to get a good look at her.

"Don't you know you're seriously hot?" She turned back to him, and looked at him like he was ready for admission to St. Mungo's mental care ward. Harry groaned inwardly. Here in his bed was one of Hogwarts' prettiest witches, and she couldn't see it herself. 'How to go about this?' he pondered.

Slowly, Harry's hands moved from her shoulders to her thighs. "Sunshine, nobody has anything on you," he said softly. "You've got killer legs..." his hands crept slowly upwards, caressing her thighs as they went. "...The most spectacular arse in the known universe..." he cupped her bum and squeezed gently, before continuing upwards. "...Perfect breasts, made even more perfect by being just inches from my face..." he placed a kiss in her cleavage, before sliding his hands over both assets in a gentle caress that forced a soft gasp from her, and continuing upwards to frame her face. "...And you've got a very pretty face, with beautiful eyes I could easily drown in," he finished his evaluation, gazing tenderly into said eyes, and eliciting a deep blush on said pretty face. "It's funny, you know," he murmured into her hair. "You're the prettiest and sexiest witch in Gryffindor, if not the whole school, and you don't even know it," he shook his head. "Or maybe you do, but you don't believe it." He broke off when he heard what sounded like a repressed sniffle. 'Dear God, not again', he moaned to himself, but when he looked up, he saw shining blue eyes filled with wonder.

"You really believe that, don't you?" she asked with a hitch in her voice. "You actually mean what you're saying!" Slowly her face lit up in comprehension.

"Yeah," was all Harry could say. "Of course I do."

"But..." she hedged. "I don't understand... Why didn't you even want to look at my tits then, much less touch them?"

"Believe me, I want to," he smiled wryly, "and the rest of you too, but not this way. I really enjoyed both the feeling and the view when I woke up, and I'm all in favour of waking up to that every day, but..." he stopped to phrase it properly, "...I'd prefer you giving me that kind of show because you want to, not because you think you have to. I'm very interested, even without the show. Trust me, I am," he finished with an exaggerated leer at her chest. Katie blushed fiercely.

"Sorry," she mumbled contritely, "but what was I supposed to think? Bel begun her play already yesterday, and I know I'm not much compared to her...."

"Will you just stop that now?" Harry was getting annoyed. "Yes, Isobel is a very pretty girl. Beautiful even. That has nothing to do with you. You're a very pretty girl Katie, not to mention so sexy, you can make my brain stop working with a look. That has nothing to do with her. To be a bit clinical, you're both fine examples of your respective body-types - and it doesn't really matter anyway." She shot him an incredulous look. "Don't get me wrong. Dating a witch who rates both second and third looks does my ego a world of good, but that's not the most important thing." He leaned forward and placed a hand between her breasts. "What's in there is what matters, Katie. Sure, it was you being a very pretty girl that made me have naughty dreams about you in the beginning, but it was finding out that you're a kind, caring, and giving person, that made me want to date you." Katie clung to him, and dissolved into a blubbering mess.

A few minutes later, she was back to almost normal, and somewhat able to continue talking. "I... I won't doubt you again, Harry," she said, her voice still not all steady, and her eyes glistening. "I just want to understand..." she trailed off. "I mean, I know what I am..."

"No you don't. You think you do, but you really don't. You know the picture you've made of yourself, but the Katie who's my girlfriend is not that picture."

"Please, Harry, I really want to understand this. I mean, I've seen guys look at Bel for years but never at me, except for George and now you." Harry snorted.

"Now? Are you kidding? Believe me, I've been looking and dreaming since I found out why boys and girls are different, so either I've been better at hiding it than I thought, or you've been so preoccupied looking at boys looking at Isobel, that you haven't noticed all those ogling you." She blushed brightly.

"But..." she sputtered. "...I've always heard about boys wanting 'tits & ass' on a girl, and I don't have much compared to Bel, so why would they look at me?" Harry sighed.

"OK, how about we do it this way, then... You tell me why she's apparently the Gods' gift to wizards, and then I'll tell you - again - why I think you are. Deal?"

"O-OK," came the shaky reply. "Do I just rattle the whole thing off, or what?"

"However you want. It's up to you."

"Right, where to start... Her hair. It's thick, long, curly, and has a colour that should be illegal. Mine is thin, limp, and boring," she huffed.

"She's got lovely hair, alright. I can't argue with that, so I'll argue about yours instead," Harry replied with a wink. "It's thin - not much you can do about it, is there? Well actually there is something you can do, and you've already done it. I'll admit that you probably had the most drab hair of anyone at Hogwarts a couple of years ago, but the style you have now is great. It really suits you. It frames your face nicely, and when it's just a little wild - like now - it's dead sexy." Her jaw really wanted to drop.

"You really think so?" He nodded, and her eyes became a little brighter. "Her eyes, then."

"What about them?"

"Don't be an idiot, Harry. They're deep, almost black, and you can literally see her soul in them sometimes."

"So? I've already told you, I could happily drown in yours. They're very expressive, you know, and they suit your colours. Isobel's eyes wouldn't be right for you." She shook her head.

"Fine! The most obvious then," she pushed on in exasperation. "Bel's a D-cup, I'm a B."

"Yeah, and you'd look ridiculous with breasts her size. It's about body-type, Sunshine. She's built wider and heavier than you, so she can 'pull it off', for lack of a better term, although they're close to being too big even on her. Picture yourself with her breasts, and then tell me you want that. The same goes for her bum as well, so no need to mention that," he smirked. "That's 'tits & ass' taken care of too. Anything else?"

"OK, Smart arse. If I'm so perfect, why do the guys look at Bel, and not at me?" Harry shook his head in dismay.

"Have you heard what I've said at all?" he sighed. "First things first: You're not perfect. Nobody are, but to me you're pretty close.  
Next: I've already told you, lots of guys look at you - a lot. Probably as many as there are looking at Isobel, but with the noted difference that the ones looking at you are actually looking at Katie - The Girl, while most of those looking at her are really gawking at Isobel - The Boobs. Ask her what she'd prefer some day. Lots of the gawkers probably don't even know her name, or that she's actually both a very nice and really smart girl. I imagine that's why she invented the Ice Bitch. It's a lot like people looking at my bloody scar, rather than at me."

"I... I'm sorry," she sniffled. "I never thought of it that way. It's just that I've always seen people looking at her, ever since we were small. She was really pretty already back then." She got a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Isn't it in the Handbook too, that you're supposed to like big tits?" she asked, a little too innocently.

"I guess so," he answered in a rather disinterested tone, "but it doesn't say, I'm supposed to be obsessed with them. It's just not that important to me, Sunshine. Of course I've looked at Isobel... and Angelina... and Lavender... and quite a few others, and I'll probably sneak a look at several more, but that's all it is. Yours are just as they should be. They're beautiful, soft, and just the right size. Anyway, I'm dating all of you - not just your tits." Katie was stunned.

"When did you grow this mature, Potter?"

"Probably when I found myself an older woman," he grinned. "I've been trying to boost my level of maturity to meet hers, and then it turns out that she's even more fixated on Isobel's tits than the dogs of Hogwarts are," he joked. Katie turned scarlet as she looked down, and suddenly the puzzle came together for him.

"I'll be damned!" he exhaled. "You're crushing on her, aren't you?" he asked gently. A second later he was shocked when she jumped up and made to bolt for the door. His arm shot out, and he caught her around her waist.

"Whoa, Sunshine! What's wrong?" He was honestly puzzled at her reaction.

"What's wrong?!" she yelled. "I'll tell you what's wrong! You accusing me of being... of being..." she trailed off, tears starting to fall.

"Easy now, Sunshine," he said, pulling her into a hug, which she didn't really respond to. "I'm not 'accusing' you of anything. I'm asking you if you're crushing on Isobel. What's so bad about that?"

"I don't believe you," she wailed. "You claim you care for me, and then you tell me I'm a dyke!" Harry groaned.

"Calm down, would you? I'm not saying you're a lesbian, for God's sake. I'm asking if you're crushing on her. Nothing wrong with asking - or with crushing - is there? Or with being a lesbian, for that matter... Not that I believe you are."

"Are you serious?" she asked incredulously. "Of course there's something wrong with being a lesbian. They're persecuted and unwelcome everywhere..."

"...in magical Britain, because women doing women don't make good brood mares for the purebloods. I know. But then again, I'm no pureblood, am I? Their values really don't mean much to me..." Harry interrupted.

"...and how can you say that crushing on someone not your partner isn't bad?" Katie asked as if she hadn't been interrupted at all.

"Because a crush is just that, Katie... A crush. That doesn't mean being unfaithful, does it? It means that you can appreciate certain qualities in someone, and maybe that you'll be toying with some naughty thoughts about that someone - and those qualities - every once in a while. It doesn't mean that you're about to throw your crush down and screw them stupid. Well... At least in my mind it doesn't." Katie was thrown.

"I'll ask again: When and how did you grow this mature? Or perhaps better: Who are you, and what did you do to Harry?"

"I've been talking to Mhairi and your dad a lot over the last six weeks. Albert and your mum as well, but I think Mhairi and Iain are mostly responsible for it." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've never had adults to talk to about anything, and talking to them - asking them questions enough to make them sick - has helped me get some distance to the immature, sulky twat, you knew as Harry. He was starting to cramp my style anyway, so I'm glad I'm mostly shot of him. Although the Order and my supposed friends would tell you that he's going stronger than ever," he finished with a mischievous grin.

Katie smiled wickedly. "Yeah, Sirius said you pulled the stony face off real nicely, and..." she trailed off, as Harry's softly caressing hands begun wreaking havoc on her thought processes.

"Good try, Miss Bell," he whispered, "but it won't get you out of it." He manhandled her into sitting in his lap, her back against his chest.

"You can't just..." she started to protest, but the sigh that followed when his hands roamed up to tease the sides of her breasts, kind of ruined her stern rebuke. Harry smirked into the side of her neck.

"Of course I can, Sunshine. Now answer the question. Are you or are you not crushing on Isobel?" She squirmed. "Katie..." Harry said in an ominous tone. When that didn't work, he decided to play dirty. He removed both hands from her salient points... and dropped them to her inner thighs, where he very lightly dragged his fingernails upwards from just over her knees. At Katie's strangled whimper, he stopped! "It's not that hard, Katie. It's a yes or no question. Are you or aren't you?"

"No... Yes... Ooh, I don't know!" She made an exasperated sound - something like a snort gone wrong - as she hit his pillow.

"Okay... As long as you're sure," Harry quipped.

"Don't be an arse, Potter," she grumbled. "...And I'm going to get you for that one. That was a dirty trick."

"Yes, yes, Bell. Now quit stalling and tell me what you mean. It was a fairly simple question, and 'all of the above' is not a valid answer." He encircled her, and pulled her in to rest firmly against him. "You're not getting out of this, Miss Bell. The sooner you spill, the sooner you'll be released," he whispered, making her shiver.

"I don't think I want to be released," she purred. "This is nice, and if you move your hands up a bit, it would be even nicer."

"Not now, Katie. You're about to tell me something, and I can't concentrate on that if I'm groping you." He made to move his hands away from her.

"No, please," she whispered as she blocked his movement. "It's not that easy, you know," she continued. "I'm not crushing on Bel. At least I don't think so," she tentatively began her explanation. "I love her to pieces, but she's always been a sore spot. I mean... She was always the pretty one, even when we were small... Always the one being cooed over. She's got more than half again the power, I've got; she's incredibly smart and focused; and even with the Ice Bitch character, just about everybody likes her and wants to be with her. All I've got to show is Quidditch, and that doesn't make people want to be with plain Katie. It's a bit hard not to feel hard done by, when comparing myself to her, and I can't help being afraid she'll steal you away, when I see her around you," she finished, pushing herself further into Harry's embrace. He sighed.

"Katie, would you please listen to me?" he rebuked. "You're in no way plain. On the contrary, you're remarkably pretty and sexy, and I'll bet you're just as smart as Isobel. The difference is, you're not flashy, and that's a good thing."

"Hey! You think Bel is being flashy to dazzle people or something, Potter?" she almost growled.

"Relax, Katie. I don't think she's flaunting or anything like that... It's just the way her whole personality works. I just like yours better." He chuckled a bit.

"What?" she snapped.

"Easy now. It's just that I think it's kind of funny. You're finally telling me what your problem is with Isobel, sounding for the world like you're putting up a front with her, and the next thing I know, you're jumping to defend her from something she doesn't need defending from. I just thought it funny, is all..."

"I'm not putting up a front," Katie protested indignantly. "I mean, she's always been there for me, always been my best friend. I've always been able to tell her things, just like she's told me stuff." She looked confused. "I don't know how or when, but she changed, and I've been sort of jealous of her lately. How could I not? She popular, smart, caring, gorgeous with that beautiful face, cracking arse, and tits like nobody's business..." she stopped dead, hiding her face in her hands. "Oh God!" she moaned. "I _am_ crushing on her, aren't I?"

"Sounds like it from where I sit," Harry quipped, squeezing her gently.

"Bugger!" she swore. "This isn't awkward at all. No Sir, not one bit," she sniffed as she turned in his embrace, and buried her face in his chest.

"It's not bad, Sunshine," he soothed. "I understand you well enough. I mean, she's hot - almost the hottest girl in school. Of course if you crushed on the hottest, it would make you look narcissistic, so you'll have to make do with the second best," he tried to lighten the mood, and was rewarded with a smack to his shoulder.

"It's not funny!" she hissed. "How am I going to look her in the eyes now?"

"Erm... By looking just over her nose?"

"Quit making jokes about this. Prat!"

"Calm down, Sunshine. What's changed, other than you knowing why you've been feeling strange about her?"

"That's just it. I don't know what's changed in the first place. I don't know why I'm crushing on her. It's not like I'm crushing on Sally, now is it? And since she looks as good as Bel, that can't be it, so why?" Tears of frustration pooled in her eyes. "I've dated George, and I'm dating you, so it's not because I'm gay. Why is this happening?"

"I don't know, but let's try to find out," Harry replied, drumming his fingers on her hips as he thought.

"Right... You've always had this minor case of hero-worshipping her, mixed with equal parts big sister and best friend, right?"

"Probably not the way I would've said it, but yeah..."

"And all of a sudden you discover that she's sexy. According to yourself, you get jealous of her, and you're somewhat skittish around her, right?"

"Yeah," Katie replied mulishly. It was like he was telling her that she was both dense and a shrew.

"How long have things been this way?"

"I don't know. About a year or so."

"Okay, maybe we're getting somewhere." Harry's brow creased in thought. "That puts us somewhere in the summer holidays last year," he mused. "Did she score a particularly tasty guy just ahead of you, or did anything happen between you?" he asked, and was astonished when he was answered by an atomic blush.

"I guess something _did_ happen," he said dryly. "Now the question is, what?"

"I... We... Erm..." Katie stammered, her blush now extending to somewhere below her breasts.

"Yes?" he asked silkily.

"We... We wound up in bed," she blurted, averting her eyes. "Bel was frustrated about her OWLs, and from being hit on by morons all the time, and I was annoyed with George always trying to get into my bra and knickers every time we saw each other, and... well... One thing grabbed another, and suddenly we were kissing on the bed, and the next minute we... Well, you know..." she hurried through her explanation, awaiting the explosion from Harry. When nothing happened, she looked up, only to see him with his jaw hanging and glazed eyes. "Harry?" she called softly. Slowly his eyes cleared.

"Damn!" he breathed, shaking his head. "That's a nice image," he said reverently. "Absolutely drool-worthy." Her ire rose instantly.

"What?" she hissed, eyes narrowing. "I'm telling you things I'd never thought I'd tell anybody, and you're mocking me?" Her normal, almost imperceptible, Scottish lilt now becoming a full burr.

"Easy, Sunshine," he tried to placate her. "I'm not mocking anybody. It just wasn't what I expected, you know. I thought you'd had a fight or something, and then you tell me it's the exact opposite. I'm just a bit shocked here. Besides, it's in the Handbook. Girl-plus-girl action is supposed to turn me on, and when it involves two of the sexiest girls, I've ever met... Believe me, it's turning me on!" Only then did she realise that he had indeed reacted to what she said, although the reaction wasn't verbal. "Damn!" he exclaimed again, before he shook himself out of his very pleasant stupor.

"Right," he continued firmly. "Before you go and find out where your nightdress decided to hide itself during the night, so we can get down for breakfast, I need to know something."

"Yes?" she asked warily.

"To be blunt: Am I your second choice to Isobel, or the rebound from George?" She was horrified!

"What? No!" she gasped. "Why?... How can you think that?" she rushed out.

"It sounds like you have some issues with both of them, and I don't know what those issues are," he replied. "Look... I'm perfectly aware that I'm nowhere near your league, but I'll never ever be anyone's second best!"

"I... I have issues with George alright. Nobody likes being dumped, and the way that arsehole dumped me would give anybody issues. I promise you, you'll never be second best to him. If anything, he was second best to you. I've had naughty ideas about you since my third year after all," she confessed with a faint blush. "Bel... I don't really know," she continued. "I guess you could be right. We ended up not seeing each other for a couple of days, and then it was like it never happened. We've never talked about it at all. I guess we should..." she looked contemplative. "Anyway, I don't fancy her as such. At least I don't think so. You're not second best to anyone, Harry. That much I'm sure about," she finished with as much sincerity as she could muster.

Harry looked into her eyes intently. "OK," he finally said, "but we're going to have to talk some more soon." Katie looked alarmed, and he continued: "I have no problem with being screamed at if I earn it, but I don't want to be chewed out for something you think I might do at one time or another. It's not fair to me." She blushed a lovely crimson, and looked down.

"O... OK, Harry." It came out sounding very contrite.

"Cool! Now that we've agreed on that, I suggest you locate your wayward clothes while I shower. That way we might make it to breakfast before it's lunchtime."

"EEP!" Katie yelped as she dashed for the door. "I didn't realize it was that late."

Watching Katie's bouncing bottom in a minuscule pair of satiny knickers, Harry just couldn't help himself. "Damn! That arse should be either illegal or sculpted in marble."

"Harry!"

"Hehe..."

----------

Sirius looked up from his fifth cup of coffee that morning. "Well would you look at that!" he exclaimed, pointing at Harry and Katie as they came in, hand in hand. "The lovebirds deigned to join us mere mortals. It must've been hard, being apart for so long. Catching up definitely took some time," he sniped with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

"Stuff it, Padfoot," Harry retorted, "or I'll send you to the vet for a neutering. Then you can work on your sniping while you recover." Left with no real comeback, Sirius - for once - did the sensible thing and kept his mouth shut, while the couple seated themselves and dug in.

When they were done eating, Harry sat back with his third cup of tea, and with Katie firmly planted on his lap. A bit embarrassing really. Both because her parents were there; because his godfather would be sure to give him a ribbing about it; and mostly because he couldn't help reacting to that little minx grinding her posterior into his family jewels. Perhaps it hadn't been his brightest idea, telling her how sexy he thought she was. Still he managed to act like nothing was out of the ordinary. At least he thought so.

"So Padfoot. How's it feel to know, the Ministry isn't after your head any more?" The adults fought valiantly to keep from laughing at his predicament, and Eliza promised herself that she'd have a talk with her daughter, _today_, about the differences between teasing and flirting on one side, and harassment and humiliation on the other. Maybe she'd cover the basics about 15 year-old boys too while she was at it.

"It's brilliant," Sirius finally answered the question. "I haven't slept this well since my Hogwarts days, and just sitting here, knowing I can relax and nothing will happen... It's so great, I don't have the words for it." Then he smirked.

"What about you, Patriarch Potter?" Sirius really enjoyed the annoyed scowl on Harry's face. How do you cope with freedom? Or do you have help?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Harry kept up the annoyed expression.

"Can it, Padfoot. At least let me finish my morning tea, before you take the conversation below the belt." Sirius actually pouted!

"You're just like your dad, you know. No fun at all until after ten." He thought for a moment. "Actually, I thought you'd been below the belt yourself, waking up with a scantily clad young lady, and then taking your time getting down here. I thought about going up there to fetch you, but I was afraid I'd see something that would scar my innocent mind." Eliza levelled a death glare at him, and Katie blushed furiously, but Harry headed them off.

"Honestly Doggy. You've spent far too much time with Ron Weasley. He's the only other one I know who can stuff both feet in his mouth in one go." He shook his head, and Sirius had the grace to at least look chastised.

"It's not that it's any of your business, but we were late coming down because we had a moment, and I just had to take the time to tell Katie how wonderful she is." He looked thoughtful. "And then she had to locate her clothes of course," he deadpanned, earning him a swat from Katie.

"Harry!" she squeaked. "Behave! My mum's here." The awkward moment dissolved in chuckles. "I just wondered," she continued, "if I'm as wonderful as you say, how come George dumped me that easily?" She raised a challenging eyebrow at him. Harry thought for a few seconds.

"I could say it's because he's an idiot, but besides it being obvious, it would be too easy. I think it's a matter of distance." Katie did a fine imitation of a question mark.

"Distance? What's that got to do with anything? Alicia lives in Carlisle. That's not too far from here, and with the Floo and apparition it doesn't matter anyway." Harry snickered.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what?" This was the 'don't mess with me voice'.

"Like I said, it's a matter of distance... More specifically the distance between your knees compared to that between Alicia's. Perhaps he thought Alicia offered a more _open_ approach..." He coughed. "Or maybe he was looking for a _wider_ perspective."

"Good Lord, Harry," Iain exclaimed. "That was so bad, even your dad would've liked it." Eliza and Sirius nodded in agreement, while Katie looked suspiciously like Goyle in Transfiguration class.

"You're... You're saying I was dumped because I kept my knickers on, and Alicia didn't?!" She shook her head as if trying to clear it. "That's what I call having the priorities straight. 'You know Katie, I really like you, and I'm happy that we've been together for two years now, but Alicia's standing right over there, and she'll drop her knickers if I ask her. I hope we'll still be friends'." She shrugged helplessly. I honestly thought his kid brother was the only one in that family without a brain." Harry wrapped his arms tightly around her, and a couple minutes later, her world was turning the right way again.

"Actually," she ventured, "I'm kinda happy George is thinking with the wrong end. If he didn't, I wouldn't have bagged Potter here." Sirius pounced on that.

"Speaking of which," he said. "How did you guys get together, and when? Judged by the way the others vetoed Ginny's guess yesterday, you two weren't in the cards." Harry grinned.

"Luck mostly. I've had my eyes on Katie for ages, well relatively speaking... Only she's so far out of my league, I never thought I stood a chance. Then one night it turned out, we'd decided on the same spot to sit and be pathetic.

---

_Harry silently padded down the stairs from his dormitory to the common room. It was very late, and – as it had become normal since coming back from Voldemort's resurrection party a few days earlier – he'd become fed up with tossing and turning in his bed for another sleepless night, listening to the thunderstorms that were Ron and Neville sleeping. As he reached the last step before entering the common room, his gaze swept the room for late night stragglers. To his dismay, he noticed a blond mop of hair over the back of his favourite couch. He'd recognize that hair anywhere. After all, he'd been her team-mate for four years, even if there had been no playing this year, and his dismay had nothing to do with not liking the girl – he did – but her being there interfered with his desire to just be left alone, as well as his plan to crash on that particular couch. 'Bollocks!' he thought. 'I guess I'll just get up to bed again.' As he turned to head upstairs again, a sound finally made its way into his mind, and it dawned on him that something was wrong with the girl on the couch. Was that a sniffle? He turned again and made his way over there, carefully approaching the oblivious witch. _

_"Katie," he whispered. "What's wrong?" The witch jumped._

_"Circe's tits! Harry," she snapped, hand on her chest. "You scared me half to death. I didn't see you coming."_

_"Sorry," Harry said – not looking like it. "That doesn't answer my question though," he pointed out. "Why's the cheeriest girl in Gryffindor sitting here, crying at far-too-late o'clock at night?"_

_"You don't want to know. Trust me on that."_

_"You're entirely wrong, Miss Bell. If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked, would I now?" He arched an eyebrow at her._

_"Please, Harry. Leave it, alright?"_

_"No... No, I don't think I will. Whatever happened to do this to you, you need to get off your mind, and I've just volunteered to take the load."_

_"Harry.. Let it go. Please. I don't want to talk about it."_

_"OK. I'll talk about it then. I'll take a guess, and you'll tell me when I'm right." Harry frowned in concentration. "The female curse? Nah.. If it was this bad, you'd be with Madam Pomfrey." Another frown. "Bad news from home?"_

_"No, it's not that. Please Harry..."_

_"OWLs then. You've just had your last exam. Did you screw it up?"_

_"I screwed them all up! There. Happy now?" She hid her face in her hands, but she couldn't hide the tears. Harry tentatively put his arm around her._

_"No, Katie, I'm not happy. Why would I be? I'm sorry that a friend feels this way, and I'm sad that you won't talk to me." He squeezed softly, trying to offer a measure of comfort. "How could you possibly screw it all up? You're one of the smartest in your year..."_

_"The Twins," came the muffled reply, in between a couple of hiccups._

_"What?!" was Harry's eloquent reaction. "But... Aren't you dating George? Or did he break up with you?"_

_"He did back in February. Through a note. Bastard!" She sniffled again. "You don't pay all that much attention, do you Harry?"_

_"I usually do, but I've been kinda busy, what with trying to stay alive and all." He squeezed a bit firmer, then his hand dropped from her shoulder to her waist. "I'm sorry about George. He's a twat! Couldn't you get some help from the A's?"_

_"No, I couldn't. He dumped me for Alicia, and when I yelled at them, he and Fred started a terror campaign. They've pranked and humiliated me at least twice a day since March, and I've been so out of it, I burned all the exams. I may have made Acceptable in Transfiguration and Astronomy, but I'm sure I've crashed all the others." Harry turned to fully face her, and pulled her into a hug._

_"I'm sorry," he said, with all the sincerity he could muster. "If I'd been paying a little more attention, I might have been able to do something."_

_"You're sweet, Harry, but you don't have to fix everybody's problems," she said. Then she kissed his cheek._

_"I'd be happy to, if it gets me that kind of rewards every time," he replied with much sincerity. "Seriously though, I think I have a way to make them leave you alone. Well, if you want me to, that is."_

_"If you can do it, and you really want to, I'd appreciate it," she offered a weak smile. Of course, if I fail my exams again at the Ministry, it's all redundant..." Her face fell._

_"You'll do brilliantly, Katie. You're too smart to burn them when you've had time and peace to prepare." He thought about it for a few seconds. "I'll get a hold of them on the train, and then I'll come down harder on them once I escape my prison for the summer."_

_"What do you mean?" Katie was puzzled. "What prison?"_

_"Dumbledore has this idea, that I have to live with my aunt and uncle in order to be safe. Problem is, they hate me as much as I hate them. I spend my summers as their House Elf, doing everything in and around the house, and I'm supposed to exist on next to nothing. He says it's because of some special wards from my mother, but if she loved me enough to sacrifice herself for me, she'd never want me to live with those animals." Harry's face showed his opinion about both the Dursleys and Dumbledore quite clearly._

_"I'm sorry to hear that, Harry. Nobody should be with people they don't like. What does your parents' will say?"_

_"I don't know. I've never seen it."_

_"What?" Katie half yelled in surprise. "It should've been read when you turned eleven, at the latest. Something about this smells funny." Her forehead creased, and her nose crinkled, and Harry suddenly found, it was an adorable look on her. He did an internal double-take... He didn't think of Katie as adorable... Did he? Well... Come to think of it, he did. Frequently. Since midway through 3rd year. Although 'pretty', 'delectable', or 'sexy' were more common adjectives in his musings regarding the delightful Miss Bell.  
Her face lit up. "I think I may have a solution for you. That is, if you want to do something about it," she said hesitantly. "It's not that I want to interfere, but you sound like you'd like to be somewhere else than at your relatives' place."_

_"Please! If you can get me away from those animals, please tell me how," he pleaded._

_She smiled. "My dad's a solicitor, and he's no fan of the Headmaster. I'm willing to bet next term's allowance, he'll be happy to get a chance to look into your placement and other stuff. He always says he liked James and Lily, and if he can make a few dents in Dumbledore's armour, and do your parents a favour at the same time, I'm sure he'll be all for it."_

_Harry was floored. "You'd do that for me?"_

_"Of course I would, Harry," she smiled. "You help me with my problems, and I help with yours. It's only fair."_

_"Thanks, Katie. It's a deal." And then one of those coincidences happened. Harry, thinking that since Katie had already done it, it would be alright to do so, leaned in to kiss her cheek, just as she did the same.  
Bullseye! They turned their heads to drop the kiss at the same time, and instead of kissing cheeks - as planned - they hit each other's lips full on._

_Startled they broke apart, although not very far, and looked at each other, surprise and a small tinge of hope in Harry's eyes; confusion, then realisation, and finally determination in Katie's. She reached out, but then seemed to falter. Harry took the plunge, and pulled her the rest of the way in._

_If asked, neither of the two would ever be able to explain what happened in the next few minutes. All they knew was that everything around them faded into insignificance as the kiss grew warmer and deeper, and when it ended, Katie was in Harry's lap, panting, and trying hard to control herself._

_"Damn!" She smiled brightly, as she exhaled slowly and carefully. "What do I have to do to get more of that?" Harry's mind immediately went into overdrive._

_'No way, Potter. Forget it. You're fourteen and she's sixteen, not to mention one of the smartest and prettiest girls in school. It's not going to happen.' Harry tried... He really did, but... 'What the Hell. Gryffindors charge ahead, don't they?'_

_"Be my girlfriend?" The world stopped for a second, and he was already regretting his abject stupidity when Katie pounced on him, wearing that brilliant smile again. Harry decided right there and then that he'd do whatever it took to put that particular smile on her face as often as possible. Then they were kissing again, and Katie made a small and - so Harry thought - very feminine whimper of either pleasure or encouragement, and coherent thinking became unimportant and much too difficult._

_They spent the next couple of hours cuddled up with each other, talking about nothing and everything, alternating with a bit of kissing - although somewhat more restrained than the initial barrage - before they drifted off._

_..._

_The morning after their great revelation, Harry was awoken by the evil, early morning sunlight creeping into the room. He spent a few seconds figuring out the what, why, and who of the situation. Yes, he really did ask Katie to be his girlfriend last night. Yes, she'd very nearly snogged the life out of him. Yes, he was currently spooned up against her back - slightly awkward since she was at least three inches taller than him - his left arm tightly around her waist, and his right upper arm pillowing her head, and the lower arm crossing her chest to place his hand on her left breast. Apparently she liked it there, as she had a hand covering his, so even if he thought he was a bit too forward - and he did, however pleasant it was - he couldn't remove it. Oh well, at least they still had their clothes on.  
He somehow wriggled himself forward enough to drop a kiss below her ear. She stirred, so he dropped one more, a little more forcefully. She blinked owlishly, groaned, and then stretched in a way that made Harry's pulse speed up significantly._

_"Morning," she rasped. "What time is it?"_

_"Good morning, Sunshine," he chirped. "It's fairly early, but we're in a bit of a compromising situation here, and I really don't want to be run over by the rumour-machine right now, and I don't want it for you either. Besides we still need to make a decision."_

_She turned over and pulled him in for a cuddle. "What do we need to decide?" she asked into his neck._

_"We need to find out if we're going public or not."_

_"Ashamed of me?" she pouted, once again doing interesting things to Harry's heart rate._

_"Heavens, no! Why would I be ashamed of dating someone that far out of my league?"_

_"Why then?" she asked, rather pleased with his assessment of her._

_"Voldemort." She flinched. _

_"Now there's a mood-killer. What about him?"_

_"He's got it in for me, for some reason or other, and he won't hesitate to use you to get to me. I don't want you in that position."_

_"Why do you think he's after you? It could be a coincidence."_

_"Nope! When we were taken to the graveyard, he ordered Pettigrew to 'kill the spare'." He took a couple of steadying breaths. "He killed Cedric, and that tells me that I'm the prime target. He's after me alright."_

_"Okay, we'll lay low for now, but you'll have to find a way for us to see each other for the next week, until we go home. I really liked what we did last night, and I don't intend for it to be a one time thing. If we're to be apart for most of the summer, you'd better make sure I'm thoroughly kissed when we go home, Mr. Potter," she said in a stern tone._

_"Sounds good to me. I'll figure something out before tonight.  
Erm.. Can you do a breath freshening charm?"_

_"Sure. Why?" her eyes were full of mischief._

_"Duh! I don't know any, and I really want to get started on the thorough kissing thing before people start coming down for breakfast, but I don't think you'll appreciate my morning breath at all. It's classified as a weapon of mass destruction."_

_"Ooh, I do like your way of thinking," she purred. "Come closer, Harry." _

_Harry's mind shut down._

_---_

The young couple shared a soft kiss, but it was their eyes that made the adults suck in harsh breaths. There was something there that went a lot deeper than the average teenage romance. Something that made them even more determined to make sure, their plans for the limited time they had would succeed.

Harry shook himself back to reality. "And that was it. The Scots know the rest, and so will you, once we find enough idle time to sit down and talk for a few hours, Padfoot."

"Better make that time soon, Harry. And let me just say again: You're so much like your old man. Smooth as a rasp with the ladies, and still you make it work." The Marauder grinned. "Of course it took James five years to catch Lily. You seem to work a bit faster than that." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, thank you Padfoot. Enough about my merits as a ladies' man." He turned to Iain. "Am I right when I think there's a whole lot planned for today?" Iain nodded and quickly gave him the highlights of the explanation, he'd given Sirius earlier.

"Oh...kay." Harry's eyes were glazed. "You will make sure I'm still alive at the end of the day, right?" Iain chuckled.

"I wouldn't dare otherwise, Harry. Your girlfriend would never forgive me, not to mention that she'd probably inflict something painful on me." Harry made a face.

"A big strong wizard afraid of dainty little Katie?"

"Does the expression 'Duh' mean anything to you?" That got a round of laughs.

"Right." Suddenly Harry was all business. "The ladies are going shopping - please don't bankrupt me - and I'll be looking at parchment with Albert. When's he due anyway?"

"Right about now, I believe. You never know with Albert, but I think he likes you well enough to be on time."

"I'm honoured," Harry said dryly. "Am I dealing with Solicitor Perks, or with my guardian?"

"Your guardian, who happens to be a solicitor," came Albert's voice from behind him.

"Oh, hi Albert," Harry turned to him. "Still on your high from yesterday?" Albert grinned.

"Trust me, Harry. If we can follow through on yesterday to the extent I hope we can, that high is going to be permanent. Mhairi is going to loathe you."

"Me? What have I done?"

"Made it possible for Mhairi's husband to take down the Minister and his chief sycophant, and cut Dumbledore off at the knees. She really hates my victory dance."

"Still no reason to hate me," Harry grumbled. "Anyway, we'd better get a move on. It seems I'm needed to take over a house or two today, and we're going to have a war council tonight." He sighed dramatically. "But I guess it's parchment for now."

"Don't be such a whiner, Harry. You might even like some of what you're going to read." Albert grinned. "Remember, the ladies like loaded young men, and some of these sheets are going to place you in control of a decent load of assets." Harry made a face.

"Maybe... Can any of it give me back what the old goat stole? No? Then it's of no real consequence." He snaked an arm around Katie. "As for the ladies, I don't really care. I've got the one I want right here, and the rest can go..."

"Harry!"

"What?"

"Mind your language."

"What do you mean? I was going to say, the rest can go queue up to have a shot at Padfoot." He tried for an angelic smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Sure you were." Katie cuffed him over the head.

"Aww, come on Katie," he whined. "You can't tell me, you won't enjoy seeing the fangirls when they find out, the Bloody-Boy-Who-Didn't-Want-To-Die is out of their reach? I'm so looking forward to it." Katie looked somewhat abashed.

"Well... There is that, I suppose," she conceded. "Now, you need to get cracking on whatever uncle Albert's got for you, and I need to meet up with Bel and Sally, so we can get to spending a whole lot of your money." She jumped off him and took off for her room to finish dressing. Harry shot a look at the wads of parchment and groaned.

----------

"Are you sure these numbers are correct?"

"Yes, Harry," a somewhat exasperated Albert replied - for the third time in a few minutes. "If they're wrong, it won't be by more than ten percent at most, and it may just as well be to the good side. I couldn't get it all completely fresh from Gringott's, but it's near enough." He looked closer at Harry. "What has you in such a tizzy? I mean... It's a nice pile of gold for sure, but it's not like it'll make you stinking rich." Harry just looked at him blankly.

"I've never had anything that was truly mine, until Hagrid gave me Hedwig," he spoke in monotone. "Other than her, I've only ever had my school stuff. This is more than I ever thought I'd have, and if a little idea I've had works out, I _will_ be stinking rich." Albert wasn't sure what to make of the glint in his eyes.

"Do tell."

"Later. I need to talk to my hidden ally first, but if we can make it work, I'll tell you first thing."

"Hmm..." Albert grumbled. "I guess I'll have to live with that."

"Yeah, but don't worry. It's not time limited. At least not until we start it. After that, it might well be." He sat up straight again. "So that was numbers, and more for Director Bones to hit the Old Goat with. Have you come across the deeds to Little Crossroads and The Pottery?" Albert held up an ornate document.

"This is for Little Crossroads. The Pottery is so old, there's no deed for it. Besides, hardly anybody know about it."

"How's that?"

"How's what?" Albert countered. "The age thing? The Pottery is believed to be the true ancestral home of your family. That puts it at roughly 1200 to 1400 years old. The knowing? It's unplottable, so even if the Muggle authorities have your address, they won't wonder why they get no taxes from there. Also the wards - when they're at full power - are the strongest in Britain bar none, so Magicals have a hard time finding it too, unless they're keyed in." Harry's expression had been growing ever happier during the explanation, and now he was beaming.

"That's brilliant! I had wondered where I was going to stay after this summer, but I think I know now."

----------

After a terse hour spent dealing with the Goblins of Gringott's, to formally claim his inheritance, Harry, Albert, and Iain had gone to Lancashire to claim the Potter properties there. The Pottery was a smallish, half-timbered cottage, built on and around a ninth century hut. It was situated in the road-end of the plot, with a large stone building standing behind it. The large building still held the potter's wheel, kiln, and storage space of the original pottery. Both house and pottery were in good condition, and the wards were surprisingly strong for having been without maintenance for 14 years. The property's ward-book gave the answer to that. There were five Ley-lines congregating under the plot, and the ward anchor was hooked directly into the centre of their meeting point. Harry only needed to take control of the anchor through a simple blood ritual, and the whole ward scheme was back at full power. The air around The Pottery was humming for nearly a full hour, before everything settled down, and even then the wards could be physically felt.

Little Crossroads was a different matter. The small mansion was in a depressing state, having stood unused and almost unwarded since 1980. Even Dobby's jaw dropped at the sight when he was summoned, but he quickly reverted back to his usual, bouncy enthusiastic self when it dawned on him, that this was something he could do for his Master Harry Potter sir. He was joined by the Bells' Elf, Dixie, who'd been moaning about a lack of work for months. Now she got her wish.

Having outlined for the Elves what was needed, and having determined that the Floo was still functional, the trio made their way back to Blacket House and dinner, before the evening's Ministerial who's who, and war council.

----------

"So you're basically saying that the best choice for Minister is also the worst?" Harry was massaging his temples in a futile attempt to stave off a mounting headache. Calum looked at him apologetically.

"Aye lad. That's what it comes down to. Amelia would be a brilliant Minister, but it would leave the DMLE with Rufus Scrimgeour, and that's to be avoided if at all possible."

"Right," Harry addressed the room at large. "Bones is out. Cresswell is out for now because of his heritage, but we'll work on trying to put him in the chair in ten years or so. Calum's out because we don't know who'll take his chair, and Arthur Weasley is out because that would be the same as making Dumbledore the Minister. Ogden is a maybe, but probably won't want it, and Griselda Marchbanks is the same." He looked around at the people he'd basically put in charge of getting a decent Minister elected. "Who's left of the good guys? Longbottom doesn't have the clout, nor do the Clans." He went silent, and after a minute, a devilish expression appeared on his face.

"Uh-oh," Sirius moaned. "Brace yourselves people. That expression on James' face always meant trouble, and I think it does on Harry's too."

"Calum?" Harry asked. "Who can be elected Minister, and how is is that determined?" The big man was happy to get that question. Everything he had on Harry stressed that he was reluctant to use even obvious sources of information, so to have him asking without being coached suggested that he was honest about wanting to change.

"That's a question a lot of people should ask, Harry," he began, "because if they did, they'd be so thoroughly disgusted, they'd change the system even if it took tearing down the Ministry." He sat back. "Eligible for the office of Minister of Magic are witches and wizards who hold a seat - or an unrestricted stewardship - in the Wizengamot."

"That's just fifty people!"

"No, Harry. That's just thirty-five people," he corrected him. Harry eyed him speculatively.

"How's that? There are fifty seats there."

"True, but apparently you haven't learnt how they're distributed..." Harry snorted.

"Not bloody likely. If it's of any importance, I don't know about it. Dumbledore made sure of that." Calum reached over and dropped a weighty hand on his shoulder.

"Then we'll have to educate you, lad." He stood and poured himself a king-sized drink.

"The fifty seats in the Wizengamot are divided into three groups," he began. "The first and biggest is the group of the twenty oldest families. Those seats are hereditary - as implied - and each seat is under the control of the Family Patriarch - or Matriarch, although only one family currently in possession of a seat is matriarchal. These seats can be voted by proxy, which is how we plan on eventually getting Cresswell elected, since he's not a member. There are no restrictions on who and what the steward should be, besides human and not convicted of any major crimes. You, I, and Sirius hold three of those twenty seats. Coinneach MacNeil, Laird of Grand Clan MacNeil, also holds one." Harry looked aghast.

"You're telling me that forty percent of the Wizengamot have their seats because their families are old, no matter how incompetent and corrupt they may be?"

"Aye, that's what I'm telling you." Calum nodded. "The next group of fifteen are those who are elected by the Wizengamot. They're personal seats that can't be stewarded, and they're given for life. The only way to lose such a seat is by having it revoked by the Wizengamot, and that won't occur unless you're convicted of something major, or if you've been declared mentally unsuited. Ogden, Malfoy, and Marchbanks hold such seats. Aonghas MacKenzie, the Laird of Grand Clan MacKenzie, does too, as does Dumbledore."

"I don't bloody believe this!" Harry ranted. "Braggarts and incompetents are there because they're inbred through enough generations, and they then sit and elect their corrupt friends for lifetime seats so they don't have to be alone when they sit and pick their noses. No wonder this country is in deep shit." Calum let out a rumble.

"Can I quote you on that, lad?" Harry glowered at him. "I actually think that quote could win you some good friends, Harry, but never mind." He seemed to focus again.

"The last group consists of the fifteen 'short' seats. They're the Wizengamot's 'proof' that democracy isn't a foreign word, although those seats prove that it's still a foreign concept. The holders are elected by the public for a five year period. They're family seats, and can only be stewarded by family. Albert is currently in his first term in one of those." Calum paused, and smiled at Katie as she handed him a fresh tumbler of whisky.

"Now, I told you that only thirty-five people can be elected Minister, right? That's because the Minister is elected in the same election that decides the short seats. That means that the holders of those seats can't be in the ballot, because nobody knows if they'll still have a seat after the election, and new candidates won't know if they'll be elected, so..." he trailed off.

"I thought I was prepared for things to be bad," Harry shook his head in disgust, "but it's actually worse. Ninety percent of the population completely cut off from any real influence." He made a face. "Banana Republic!" Only Albert and Eliza caught it.

"Anyway... You've said that all three Grand Clans have a seat each, at least for now. Are there any more Scots? And what about the Welsh or Irish? It seems to me that this is an English club." Calum looked at him sharply, while Albert seemed to be catching on.

"There is one more Scot these days. Airchie Farquharson of Braemar holds a short seat. Ogden is there for the Irish, as is Eoghan O'Leary in a short seat. The Welsh only have Cilydd Llywarch these days."

"Incredible," Harry muttered. "Sixty-five percent of all magicals in Britain are represented by fourteen percent of the votes. It supports my idea though." He looked at Sirius. "You're not going to vote your seat yourself, are you?"

"No way! Perhaps once I'm eighty." Sirius looked absolutely horrified at the idea.

"Great. Calum, can you come up with a Welsh who'll steward a permanent seat for... say twenty-thirty years?" Calum didn't even have to think about it.

"Poseidon Davis is your man, Harry," he said with absolute conviction. "He's from Cardiff, but he has the ear of the clans up north too."

"Not to mention that he's your son-in-law," Albert quipped.

"That too, but that's not why I endorse him," Calum defended himself. "It's because he's respected in both camps down there, and he can make things happen. He's a bit of a bastard, but if he gives you his word, nothing and noone can make him break it." Harry looked at him intently. Then he nodded.

"Alright," he said. "If you can persuade him to take it, there's a seat for him." He looked around with a shifty expression. "Which of our seats is the best for an aspiring Minister?"

"Potter!" Albert exclaimed, quickly followed by the others.

"Okay, Davis for the Black seat then." He stopped abruptly. "Any relation between him and Tracey Davis in my year?"

"He's her uncle," Isobel replied. "She's wired much the same as he is. If you bother her, she's a bitch, and if you're a friend to her, she'll be a friend to you. That's why Malfoy is still flinching at the name." Harry laughed.

"Sounds like you have a lot of fun in that dungeon of yours." Then he turned to survey them all, a big grin on his face.

"Eliza? How would you like to be the interim Minister of Magic?" A storm of 'are you crazy?' hit from every angle, except one. Mhairi had a calculating look on her face, and when she held up a hand, the shouting stopped.

"It makes sense," she said, drawing looks of consternation. "Think about it. Handing Poseidon a seat will go down well with Ogden, and Eliza for the other will secure his block for us. Most of the windbags will see her as a Perks, a witch from an English family related to the Longbottoms - and she is of course - but he will see Mrs. Bell, a vote for Scotland, Wales and Ireland. Same with Llywarch and Farquharson. Eliza actually being a Perks - and a witch - should give us the Bones-Longbottom block, and Marchbanks might join in too." She looked at them all, her eyes shining. "We might actually be able to pull this one off," she finished, her voice filled with wonder. That quieted everybody right down, and a couple of minutes later, Calum began chuckling quietly.

"This is going to turn magical Britain on its ear, lad. I hope you're ready to deal with it."

"You're the one who told me to think about who I wanted to take over, and I did just that. Not my problem if people don't like it."

"I hope you're right," Calum said as he rose from his seat. "But for now you'll have to excuse me. I have a few arms to twist, and not a lot of time to do it in." All rose to leave, and froze when a dainty cough sounded. Everybody turned to look at Eliza.

"I was asked a question before. Do I get to answer?" she asked archly. Several of them gulped. Eliza Bell was _not_ to be taken for granted!

"You all seem rather convinced that I'll take it, but why would I? I don't particularly fancy getting a stomach ulcer, and I'm not keen on being crucified in the press as morning entertainment."

"I can understand that," Harry said softly. "Probably better than anyone else." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I won't say you should, but we'd like you to take it because it will be a wake-up call for magical Britain, and because you can do a lot of good in that position. And of course because you're gifted with something that's increasingly rare these days: Common sense." The rest murmured their agreement, but otherwise stayed silent. They seemed to know that Harry was the one with the best chance of persuading her.

"We're not asking you to give up everything for an ungrateful society, you know. We're basically asking you to be a placeholder. I imagine you could be elected for a full period in three years, giving you eight years in the seat, and then you can pass the Potter seat to Cresswell, and the Minister's chair to Director Bones. She should have a decent replacement trained up by then. Whatever else happens, we're not asking you to take it permanently." He did his best to be as open as possible, as Eliza stared him in the eyes. Finally she sighed.

"You mean what you're saying, Harry. Thank you for the vote of confidence." She stepped back to look at them all at once.

"Okay, I'll take the blasted seat, but only until 2003, and you'd better start looking for alternatives in case the interim period goes badly. If it does, I'm not going to run in '98." Several people released breaths they weren't even aware they were holding in.

It was a much relieved group that broke up for the night, and a few minutes later, only Harry and Katie were left in the room. Harry was fidgeting, and Katie was puzzled.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked.

"Sleep with me tonight?" he asked hesitantly and almost inaudibly. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Dressed like last night?" The eyebrow rose even higher.

"It's up to you," he blushed. "You can wear a nightie over a pair of pyjamas if you like. I just want to hold you and be held. I've never felt as good as I did this morning, and I'd like to feel that again." She looked at him for a long time.

"Come on," she said, holding out her hand. "Let's get to bed."

A/N: My most profuse apologies for this. I've been at a loss about how to write this chapter, and to be honest, this wasn't it. It is however the least crappy of the numerous attempts I've made, so it'll have to do. The 'bed scene' was supposed to be short and sweet. It was not supposed to take up half the chapter, but it turned out Katie had quite a number of issues to address.  
I know that the 'getting together scene' will seem dreadfully cliché, but it does actually have some truth to it. The Harry-Potter-specific issues aside, it's a watered down version of how I got together with my first girlfriend 30 years ago, only our waking up involved a total absence of clothing and a lot more action.  
Sadly the trouble I've had with this means that I've royally destroyed my storyline, so I'll have to rethink how to go on from here. That in turn means, I offer no guesses as to when ch. 4 will come around.


End file.
